More Than This
by xeyes
Summary: A month after SH4, Henry and Eileen are called to Silent Hill by the past. Perhaps sleeping dogs should be let lie... Sequel to “Starting Again”. Lots of spoilers for all the games, and a bit of character death. M for usual SH themes.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a sequel to "Starting Again", and picks up where that story left off. Reading it will help explain some of the details here, but isn't absolutely necessary. It's now the third morning since the "Escape" ending of SH4. Henry and Eileen have left South Ashfield Heights and rented a townhouse together, and are helping each other get through the day. **

**This is classified General because it doesn't really fit in any one or two classifications...the story divides itself into thirds, and each has a different focus. Read on, and I hope you like it.**

**Konami owns Eileen, Henry and almost everyone in this, and almost everywhere as well. Thanks also go to Peter Gabriel for the song that fit this story so well that I had to borrow its title…I don't own that either. No money made, no infringement intended.**

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* * *

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Eileen was waking up. She was lying in bed against some large, unmoving heat source.

Mmm, snuggly, she thought drowsily. Her arms moved closer up to whatever it was, and her eyes opened blearily to a view out of a large window. The lake was just starting to glimmer with the light of the rising sun.

_Wait a minute. Where am I? _

Then she remembered…she was in a townhouse, in her new bed, and the warmth against her was…

She turned over slowly, so as not to disturb him. Henry sat propped against the headboard, asleep, head back over the pillow behind his shoulders, snoring softly. His arm was around her, and he still had on his T-shirt and shorts.

She'd seen him sleep once before, the previous night in the hotel, when he'd had that horrible nightmare and then told her about it…about things that had happened before he'd found her in the hospital. Terrible things. He'd fallen asleep in her arms then, just as she'd dozed off in his last night. His lips were curved in a faint smile, and he seemed to be at peace.

Guess that means that neither of us had the nightmares last night, she thought. Perhaps we've found the cure. She wished she could stay in this moment forever.

Just then, a ray of light reflected off of the lake into the room, and hit Henry's closed eye. He stirred, and his head turned automatically in Eileen's direction.

"Good morning," she said with a smile.

Henry opened one eye, then the other. "Hey," he said, stretching his free arm. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in days," she replied, pulling herself upright.

PING!

She winced.

"What's wrong?"

"I've got a crick in my neck," Eileen replied. "I'm not used to sleeping in that position, I guess."

"Allow me."

She turned away from him, and his hands probed the back of her neck gently.

"Here?" he said, prodding the tight muscle.

"Right there."

Mmmm. He's got magic hands, she thought, as they worked. Strong and warm.

Eileen had always liked a good neckrub. Over time, she'd developed a little theory about them. She believed that the way a person gave a neckrub was very telling about his or her personality. Kinda like a handshake, but more in-depth. Some people went after the muscles with a vengeance, others were too light-fingered to do any good.

Henry was working the muscles firmly, but not roughly, and every so often he'd dig a knuckle in to a particularly knotted spot to get the kink out. Then, his fingers would pass lightly over her skin, looking for more tight muscles.

Efficient, effective, but gentle. Hey, this guy gives good neckrub.

Not just any guy, she reminded herself. Henry.

Her Henry?

No, better not think about that just yet. Don't want to go all over-possessive.

Henry's fingers were probing gently again. "How's that?" he asked.

She turned her head experimentally, then bent her neck. "Much better," she said.

"Good," he said, his voice close to her ear. Then, she felt the touch of his lips on the spot. Her heart turned over. She turned to face him. His eyes held a little fear, as if he was afraid he'd gone too far.

"Perfect," she said. She put her arms around his neck and raised her face to his.

Yes, she thought. Her Henry. Over-possessiveness be damned.

* * *

They spent every night snuggled together in her bed. At first, they stayed there together to keep the nightmares away, but after a while they were simply accustomed to each other's presence. Soon, Eileen couldn't imagine sleeping by herself.

Some nights, they would stay up late and talk for hours about everything under the sun. Henry told her all about his life growing up in North Ashfield, and his love of photography and traveling. He showed her his pictures from the various places he'd been, and talked longingly of the places he wanted to go. Egypt…Japan…Italy…Tunisia…they all sounded fascinating. She was caught up by his stories, and found a streak of wanderlust that she never knew she'd had. Traveling with Henry would be fun, she thought…

He would ask her about herself, and seemed fascinated by even the smallest details. She told him things that she'd never told anybody else, not even her closest female friends. Somehow, she knew he'd understand. And he always did.

They sometimes talked about that night. They would hold each other for hours and let the words flow. After a while, Eileen knew just what Henry had been through that day and night, and she grew to understand what it had done to him, and to her. But talking about it also helped her to put it behind her, and it seemed that the nightmares were gone for good. For both of them.

* * *

A week after they'd moved in, they realized that Henry no longer needed a separate bedroom, and so they moved the computer, papers and other office things up there instead. This allowed him to use all of the little downstairs room for his darkroom, and gave both of them a beautiful view over the trees around the townhouse while they sat at the desk working.

One afternoon, Eileen was at the desk in front of her computer, checking for job opportunities as she did every day. Nothing new had been posted, so she browsed around her favorite websites for a while, and looked out over the trees. The main area of Ashfield was just visible past the expanse of green.

Somewhere out there is South Ashfield Heights…should be just over there, beyond that tall tree. That all seems very long ago now…

She shut the machine down and went down the stairs for a soda.

Henry was on the couch, with papers and photographs spread out on their large coffee table. The whole table and most of the couch was covered with materials, and he was poring over them intently.

Eileen got her soda from the fridge, and sat quietly in her chair next to the sofa, watching him. He was focused on one very large sheet of paper in the middle of the table, on which various text clippings and photos lay in three columns.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked softly.

Henry sighed. "Widmark is still working on that tourist brochure for Brahms."

"Still?" Eileen said. "I thought you took the pictures for that a few weeks ago."

"I did. But the material for the brochure still has to be assembled and laid out. He's doing two versions, a longer one and a shorter, trifold one for rest stops and such. The longer one is done, but he's not happy with the way the shorter one came out. So, he gave it to me and told me to see what I could do with it."

He ran his hand back through his hair. "I know what things to emphasize, what should be text and what should be an image. That's easy. Fitting it all together in three columns on two sides is the hard part."

Eileen nodded. "My last year of college, I helped out with a couple of poster presentations. Same problem…editing down everything you want to say is a pain."

Henry sat for a moment, staring at the paper. His eyebrow went up. "Want to help?"

"Sure," she said. He dumped some of the papers off the couch, and she sat next to him.

She scanned the layout. "I had no idea that Brahms had all this stuff."

"Never been there?"

"Not since I was little."

"I'll take you there someday," he said. "It's just gorgeous. That job was one of the better ones I've had."

"I'd like that. Looks like there's a lot to do there..."

She kept reading.

"Henry…"

"Hm?"

"May I?"

He waved his hand over the table. "Feel free."

Eileen picked up a chunk of text. "This piece about the museum and arts festival…these could attract a lot of good tourism money. What if you give it its own section, in the middle, here…and move this part about the lake into its place?" She switched the two pieces.

Henry nodded. "I'd have to pick a different photo for the lake, and find a good one of the festival…but that would work. The lake sells itself, so it doesn't need to be as far forward. That way, I can cut some of the stuff about the historical aspect…which should give me back some of the space I need…"

He moved his hands over the paper for a few minutes, thinking and rearranging pieces.

"Let's take a break," Henry said. "I want to come back to this later, but I think that may have done the job. Thanks."

"Glad to help."

Henry grabbed himself a soda, and they slid open the glass doors in the living room and went out onto their patio. Two wooden Adirondack-style chairs flanked a small round table, facing the lake. They put their drinks down and sat in the chairs, and soaked in the warmth of the sun in the late-fall crispness.

After several minutes, Henry spoke.

"Thanks again."

"Don't mention it."

"It would have taken me who knows how long to see that. I've never really had to do much of this sort of thing before. Layouts, yes, but usually not in such a small space."

Eileen shrugged. "All I did was give it a fresh look." She turned to Henry, who was staring out over the lake. "I liked the way you had balanced things out across the columns. It's a good layout. Very attractive."

He smiled. "Thanks. Widmark told me that he thought I might have an eye for copy layout...I've helped him out with a few things before, but this is the first time he's given me a whole brochure."

He stared at his soda. "I don't want to ask…"

"Shoot."

"If he likes it…he might give me another. If he does…would you…"

"Of course. I'd be glad to. If you don't mind."

"Mind?" Henry laughed. "You just saved me hours of work. No, I don't mind…I'd really appreciate it."

"Why don't you want to ask me to do things? That's what we do for each other. We're…"

Henry waited.

Eileen frowned. "What are we?"

"Got me."

Eileen's hand reached across the table. Henry's met it halfway, and she wound her fingers through his.

"I mean…are we together?"

Henry thought for a minute.

"I suppose. I don't really know. I'm not familiar with how this works."

"You mean, us?" Eileen said.

"Any of it," Henry said, turning to face her. "This is all new to me...is it for you?"

Eileen gave the question serious thought. "A long time ago, when I was a kid, I had this huge crush on an older guy," she said. "But it was just a dream…he wasn't interested, never would be. I realized that one day. That killed it for me." Henry squeezed her hand. "I see now that it was just a crush. This is different."

He nodded.

"How about you?" she asked.

Henry shrugged. "Like I said, I've only ever asked out one girl, and that ended quickly."

"Yes, but did you ever want to ask out others?"

"Hell, yeah," he said. "Wanting to wasn't the problem. There were a few that I almost did ask, but before I got up the nerve, somebody else would get to them first."

"I'm sorry."

"It's OK," he said. "I knew I'd never be one of those guys who gets all the girls. Never understood how that worked."

"Lots of girls like the confident, outgoing, arrogant types," Eileen said, "but those are the ones that cause problems. If they only knew how someone like you would be, they'd never look twice at the rest."

They sat in silence. After a while, she spoke.

"What happens now?"

Henry was quiet for a moment. Then, he swung his leg over the chair, and sat on the near side. He took her hands in his, and looked down at them as he played with her fingers.

"I don't know. I don't want to make the same mistakes that my parents made. I think we're going to have to play it by ear."

She smiled at him. "I'm very happy. You?"

He smiled up at her. "Very."

She moved her feet off of the chair, and he lay down on his back between her knees, head cushioned on her stomach. She gently massaged his head with her fingers. His eyes closed, but he did not sleep.

They rested in companionable silence as the sun dropped lower. Too soon, the light faded, and darkness fell.

"Ready for another go at the brochure?" he asked.

Eileen grinned. "Sure."

* * *

And so, the days passed.

Eileen found that living with Henry was a simple thing. She'd never liked having to live with anybody. She'd been an only child, and so she wasn't used to sharing her space. In college, she'd endured the usual series of roommates, gone to her share of parties, and then moved into Room 303 by herself to concentrate on her studies. Roommates were noisy, messy, and unreliable, and she needed her space.

But with Henry, there was no conflict, no annoyance. Life with him was as comfortable as her old bathrobe. Henry lived quietly, more so than she ever had before, and she sought out his company more and more frequently. Henry never demanded or intruded. She found him soothing, and Eileen grew to depend on his presence as she healed from their nightmare.

He was healing too, she could see. The diffidence and quietness that she'd seen before was gradually eroding. He was prone to doing little things to surprise her. One morning, he made them both breakfast in bed. She squealed in surprise when he brought in the tray.

"Henry! What's the occasion?"

He shrugged. "It's morning, and we're hungry."

"Scrambled eggs, dry. How did you know?"

He grinned. "Educated guess."

"And you say you can't cook."

"Not really, but I'm OK with eggs. Just don't ask for pancakes."

In turn, she would bring him drinks and snacks during his long stints in his darkroom. One day, during a break from a particularly lengthy session, she asked him why he didn't just use a digital camera and avoid all of the hassle.

"I like doing it this way," he said. "There's something satisfying about the process. Doing things with your own hands."

"But it takes you so long…is it really worth it?"

He shrugged. "No big deal. Anyway, I'm saving up for a really good digital camera. The one I have isn't good enough for work, just for snapshots."

"You have definite Luddite tendencies," she teased.

He picked up his old Pentax camera. His fingers touched it gently. "I've had this for almost forever, since I was a kid," he said. "It's never failed me. I know its ins and outs, the way it sometimes catches when I'm rewinding the film. It's been with me longer than anything else in my life. It will die someday, and I'll keep it until I go too.

"I don't have anything against digital. I just prefer this. I guess I'm old-fashioned in some ways." He shrugged.

She smiled. "Not too old-fashioned for me."

They both spent time sitting in the chairs facing the lake. They avoided intruding on each other's chair time by unspoken agreement, understanding the need for solitude without demands, implied or otherwise.

Eileen found it very soothing to listen to the sound of the waters and let the warmth of the old chair wood embrace her as she let her mind wander. She would think back to that night (it was always "that night" to her), and force herself to remember. Gradually, the memories became less and less painful to her…no less real, but more definitely part of her past.

But not completely gone, or forgotten. Sometimes, she would see something or hear something that triggered a memory…and she would end up gripping a table or chair or railing, white-knuckled, trying to still her shaking. She tried to conceal it as much as possible when Henry was around, so he wouldn't suspect. She never saw him have weak moments like that. Perhaps he was just stronger than she was.

Then, one afternoon as Eileen sat with her eyes closed against the sunlight, she heard the glass door slide open. Footsteps approached.

_He never comes out here when I'm here…_

Henry fell into the other chair and leaned his head back, eyes closed, hands clenched around the arms of the chair. He was breathing quickly, and his face was tense. Eileen started to get up, but his hand shot across the little table and grasped hers.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

He said nothing, just held her hand. She sat back in her chair, and eventually his breathing slowed. His hand relaxed and fell away. They rested together for an hour or so, before getting up for a quiet dinner.

Afterward, they would sit there alone or together, and she found that his presence made her much more comfortable than his absence.

As the days passed, she realized something else…that before she met Henry, she'd been lonely. She'd been a lonely woman living in a building full of lonely people, not going out much except occasionally to parties where other lonely people lurked. Eileen remembered the cat lady in the downstairs room who'd never married, Nurse Rachael who never did either, the creep in 301, Richard with nothing better to do than to spy on the neighbors, Frank Sunderland…

She'd been in that rut for so long that she hadn't realized it until she was no longer alone. The contrast startled her. Looking back on those days of sitting in her room by herself, she knew just how isolated she had felt, and that she never wanted to feel that again. She hoped that Henry felt that way too.


	2. Chapter 2

About a week later, Henry had an assignment that was going to keep him away for a couple of days. The day before he left, he asked her again and again if she was going to be OK. The fifth time, she turned to him and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Of course I will, silly," she said, and her smile was more confident than she was. "I'm going to be just fine. Don't worry about me."

"Lock all the doors…"

"…And check all the windows. I know. It's OK, Henry, it really is."

He searched her eyes, and relaxed a little.

"OK. But you call me if anything happens. I'll have my cell on all the time."

"So will I," she replied. "You call me too, OK?"

He pulled her into his arms and kissed the tip of her nose. "Yes, ma'am." She stuck out her tongue, and he grinned.

As she watched the old truck rumble away, Eileen felt an emptiness she hadn't felt in a long time. She missed him. She puttered aimlessly around the townhouse for the rest of the day, ate a quiet dinner, and fell asleep over her book in bed.

That first night, Eileen slept well.

The next day passed uneventfully…she ran errands, sent off a couple of resumes, and mailed a birthday card to her cousin in California. She ate her solitary dinner in front of the TV.

She woke in a sweat in the dead of night, heart pounding. The house was quiet, but she rechecked everything and looked in the closets before going back to bed.

The next afternoon, the old truck rumbled back up to the house. Henry was tired and unshaven and dirty, but happy, very happy.

"It was fantastic out there," he told her as he carried his bag in. "I camped out by the river, and I got the most amazing pictures. I can't wait to show you."

He embraced her tightly.

"I missed you," he said into her hair.

Eileen wriggled in mock protest. "I missed you too," she said, "but you stink."

Henry released her. "Sorry," he said. He looked down at his grimy jacket and jeans. "I guess I need to clean up a little. But it was worth it. I should make some good money from this job."

"If you go wash, we can get some dinner from Luigi's to celebrate, and then we're going to need some good beer."

Henry grinned. "I almost forgot." He headed back out to the truck and returned with two plastic bags, which he handed to her. One held a couple of six-packs of their favorite microbrew, and the smell of garlic and tomatoes from the other was unmistakable.

"Great minds think alike," he said.

Eileen opened the second bag. "What's this?"

Henry peered in. "The girl gave me a stromboli today," he said. "I didn't ask for it, but she insisted. Free. Said we'd like it."

"She thinks you're cute," Eileen said.

Henry stared at her.

"She told me once. Let me guess…she asked where I was and you told her that you were surprising me with dinner, right?"

"Yeah."

"There you are. She thought it was a sweet thing to do, and threw that in. And she's right."

"Told you I'd missed you," Henry said, wrapping his arms around her from the back.

"Guess that means we're in for the night," she said.

"Damn right."

* * *

A few hours later, the sun had set, and a clean Henry sat with Eileen on the couch watching TV. The food was all in their stomachs, and the remaining space therein was gradually being filled by excellent beer.

"You'd think that with all these channels, there would be something on," Eileen said, as Henry clicked "channel up" for the umpteenth time. "But TV sucks tonight."

"Yeah, it's pretty bad," Henry nodded. "Hang on a minute," he said, clicking back to the previous channel.

She saw their old apartment building. It stood vacant, for a moment, as if fixed in time. She could just see the balcony outside her old room, same as it always was. Then with a large puff of dust, the whole building collapsed in on itself as if in slow motion.

"Turn it up," she said quickly.

"…shfield Heights was demolished today, more than two weeks after the horrific events that took place inside its walls. According to the police, the building has had a long and eventful history, but the recent unusual happenings have caused it to be declared uninhabitable. Still no sign of its superintendent, Frank Sunderland, who has been missing since that night. In other news…"

Henry turned the channel again. Some loud guy in a loud jacket wanted to sell them a car, it seemed.

"At least nothing will ever happen to anyone else in there," she said.

"I'm glad it's gone," he said. "I'm sorry. I know you liked it there."

Eileen sighed. "It's hard to see it go," she said, "but it's for the best."

He reached for her hand, and squeezed it.

"This channel usually runs movies around now," he said.

Sure enough, they'd stumbled across a really old monster movie.

"I think it just started," Eileen said.

"That's more like it," Henry said. He pointed at the screen. "Check it out. I bet if those guys turned around, you could see the zippers in their rubber suits."

Eileen laughed. "I've seen ones where the heads had big shoelaces tying them together in the back."

"I saw one once in which the aliens looked just like humans, but with these big hooked noses. I swear they looked like chickens."

"Really? Are you serious?"

"There are some things that are far too important to _not_ joke about. Really bad movies are one of those things." Henry nodded sagely.

Eileen grinned. "Amen to that."

They spent the next two hours laughing at the movie, then heckling it. When it ended, another one started, so they kept right on going. And going. The beer dwindled.

"This...is...CRAP," Henry growled. He was seated on the floor, having slid down off the couch some time before. Eileen lay behind him on the couch, giving him a neckrub. "They must have blown the budget on the damn titles."

He waggled a finger vaguely at the TV screen. "What I don't get is, am I really supposed to believe that that little tin can can travel through space AND time? With a firecracker up its - "

"Oh...oh...ohmyGod," Eileen gasped, doubling over in laughter. "It looks like a piece of pipe or something. Those effects really aren't that special..."

"And those spacesuits are unbelievable. Flimsy. There's no way they'd stand up to zero pressure."

"Zero pressure? Geek," Eileen said, prodding him in the back with her bottle.

"No, I'm just observant," Henry said. "They'd have to be internally pressurized – "

"Oh God…look," Eileen interrupted, pointing at the TV. "Flying monkeys. In space. Even Walter's hell didn't have flying monkeys. In space."

"No," Henry said quietly, and Eileen realized what she'd just said. She moved forward and put her chin on his shoulder.

"Anyway, it's kinda like the Wizard of Oz, but even lower-budget," she said. She felt him relax.

"Yeah. No kidding. Cheap-ass monkey suits."

"And the flying isn't even well-done. They look like they're just hanging there. They could at least pull them across the screen or something."

"YOU CAN SEE THE GODDAMN WIRES!" Henry yelled, waving his half-empty bottle at the TV.

"And the lousy matte painting. You're going to wake the neighbors," Eileen said, swaying toward him, "and you're going to dump beer on the carpet." Her arm waved ineffectively over his shoulder.

"Ah, don't worry, I'll clean it up tomorrow."

"Screw the mess. It's a waste of good beer," she replied, and grabbed the beer, still in his hand. She brought hand, beer and all to her mouth, and took a gulp of it, wiping her mouth with the back of her other hand afterwards.

She stopped suddenly. Henry had frozen in place. He turned to face her, and his other hand came up to hers, which was still wrapped around his hand and the bottle. His fingers traced hers from tip to knuckle, and stroked lightly across the back of her hand. The jolt traveled through her like an electric current.

He said nothing for a while, but kept on stroking her hand, staring at it as if nothing else existed. The movie droned on behind him.

"I…" he began. "'Leen, last night, I dreamt…"

"Shhh," she said. This wasn't going anywhere good.

"No, no, listen," he said, his voice rising. "I dreamt that we were back in that place again. In the room with Walter and the spinning blades in the blood. And you were walking toward them, but I couldn't get the spears out of the walls. They were stuck, even after I put the umbilical cord back into him." His voice was rising. "I pulled and pulled, but they were stuck, and I couldn't get them out, and you kept walking, and Walter kept shooting me, and I couldn't get them out of the walls…"

He was breathing hard, fighting for control, too far gone to stop himself. Then, a long hiccupping breath escaped him. She pulled him to her and rocked him as he babbled like a little child.

"I couldn't DO anything, and you kept walking, and you walked right into the blades and you were chopped up into little pieces. I heard you scream, heard everything, and Walter laughed and it was too late and you were dead and I didn't care any more whether he killed me or not. Then I woke up."

Eileen rocked Henry some more.

"I had the same dream," she said simply.

Henry stared at her in shock.

"You had the same dream? How?"

"It was just a dream, Henry. It's not real."

He grabbed her hands.

"Eileen…it could have been. It could have happened so easily."

"But it didn't, Henry."

"But it _could_ have." His eyes were unfocused. "When I was out there yesterday and the day before, I thought about you. Whenever I saw something beautiful or unusual, I kept wanting to tell you about it, but I couldn't. You weren't there."

Eileen nodded. "I know that feeling."

"A month ago, I didn't think that I'd ever have anyone to tell. Anybody, ever. I had nobody, nothing..."

She smiled. "Me too. But not any more. Everything's different now. We're here, Henry, you and me, and Walter's gone." She could tell that he was only half listening, that she wasn't getting through to him…

She put her hand on his shoulder. He grasped it like a lifeline. Her other hand stroked his cheek.

His eyes met hers. They were dilated to near blackness, thin green rings around them like cat's eyes.

Suddenly, his other hand came up behind her head and pulled her head down to his. She felt the hunger in his kiss, the need, the desperation. He was rising up on his knees, bending over her, wrapping her in his arms and nearly crushing her. Electricity ran through her from each touch, deep to her core.

When they came up for air, she moved back a little to look at him. He was gasping for breath, and she saw the hunger and love and something more primal…

He pulled her up to her feet. They took a few steps toward the stairs before they stumbled. He caught her head before it hit the wall, and pressed himself against her, pinning her. His lips burned against hers.

_I never even suspected that he had this in him._

Still wrapped in each other, they stumbled to the stairs, and made their way up in fits and starts. Henry's back slammed into the door to their bedroom, and Eileen leaned up to him.

"Eileen, I…"

"Sssh," she said, silencing him with a kiss. She felt his belt buckle cold against her stomach where her shirt had ridden up.

He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. His hand stroked her hair, and his breath came in short gasps.

"No...I need to know…now. Do you want this? Really?"

Her heart turned over. She smiled. "And you?"

"'Leen…we're both pretty drunk," he said slowly, with a little lopsided smile. "If you move a muscle, I don't know if I'm going to be able to stop."

"Mmm," she replied, contemplating his neck hungrily. His breath was hot on her forehead. "You?"

"God, yes." he said. His eyes traveled over her face as if seeing it for the first time. "If you'll have me." She leaned into him. His tongue ghosted over her ear, and she lost all reason.

He yanked her back against him, into the door. It burst open, and they stumbled into the room and fell upon the bed.

* * *

The next morning dawned cool and crisp. As Eileen woke, she had a feeling that something was different somehow. Her tongue felt like cotton, but that wasn't it.

She felt the cool sheets against her skin. Where were her nightclothes? she thought drowsily.

She opened one eye, and saw what looked like Henry's favorite T-shirt in a pile on the carpet._ That's weird…he never drops his clothes on the floor…_

Then she remembered. She smiled to herself, and turned away from the window. He sat upright in bed, watching her. The sheet was pulled up around his waist, and his arms rested on his raised knees. The light hairs on his forearms caught the morning light.

"Good morning."

"'Morning," she said, stretching. "How are you feeling?"

Henry smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Kinda dry-mouthed. You?"

"The same. But otherwise great," she said, snuggling up against him. His skin was soft.

"Uh…Eileen…I…"

Her hand went to his cheek, and as her fingertips touched it, his eyes closed and he caught his breath.

"What is it, Henry?"

He paused. "Last night…"

She pulled her hand away, and felt her heart sink.

"…are you OK?"

She smiled her bravest smile. "I'm fine. Better than fine. Are you OK?"

He let out his breath raggedly, and this time the smile reached his eyes. "No regrets?"

"None at all."

"Same here."

It was her turn to let out her breath. His gaze moved over her face, as it had last night, and he held out his arm. She leaned into his warmth. It was going to be OK.

Henry reached for something on the floor. She found herself fascinated by the fine, light skin at the side of his waist as he bent over. His eyes were on her as he handed her the glass of water, and she drank deeply. She gave the glass back to him with a smile.

"Just one question," Eileen said, snuggling into him.

"Shoot."

"What were we waiting for?"

Her ear against his chest caught the rumble of his laugh. "I guess we were being careful." He sounded thoughtful. "Given that both our sets of parents split up, that's not too surprising."

She nodded. "Everything has happened so fast. I've never believed into rushing into anything so important."

"That makes two of us."

She felt his body stiffen suddenly, and she sat up.

"What's wrong?"

"Being careful…I just remembered…" His eyes traveled to her stomach.

"I'm OK for now," she said. He relaxed.

"I didn't think about that. I didn't think about anything except you last night." She could hear the anger in his voice…he was angry at himself.

"It's fine for now. We'll be more careful in the future," she said, stroking his jaw.

He raised an amused eyebrow at her. "The future, huh? So…this is a thing, now?"

"Yes, my articulate Henry," she smiled. "We have a thing."

His small smile grew. Her hand moved across his abdomen. Not too defined, but slim and strong, she thought.

"Got anywhere you need to be this morning?" he asked.

"I have that job interview after lunch, but I'm free now." She lifted an eyebrow.

He grinned down at her. Then, he flipped over, tackled her, and pulled her, giggling, back under the blankets. She hadn't giggled in years.

"No, you're not. You're mine, all mine," he said.

"Damn right," she said.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the next week and a half, they reveled in each other. Henry's reserve fell away, and revealed a man whose personality complemented her own. Not identical to hers, definitely not...but compatible in a way she had only suspected might be possible. She found herself thinking back to those years when they had lived so near each other yet so far apart, regretting the time lost to unneeded loneliness. She'd been looking for the right guy…and hadn't ever suspected that he was just feet away from her the entire time.

It fascinated her how much of himself he poured into his work. He told her that for a long time it had been all that he'd had, that his life had revolved around work and...well, work, especially after he'd moved into Room 302. It had helped him get through the first few days of his imprisonment, until he couldn't concentrate on work any more, couldn't concentrate on anything at all.

"But that was then," he said, taking her in his arms.

"Things are different now. Completely different," she replied.

He seemed in awe of her for reasons she couldn't determine. Sometimes, he would just hold her face in his hands and look at her. She saw love in his eyes, and often desire, and sometimes a fear that unsettled her. A lot.

After several days, she was unsettled enough to start wondering if something was wrong. Why couldn't he look at her without that fear? What was bothering him?

* * *

One quiet afternoon, Eileen was hanging his pictures on the walls. She'd wanted to do so for some time, actually; he had danced around it for so long that finally, today, she shooed him out of the room and told him not to come back for two hours. So, he went upstairs and occupied himself with work and the bills and the wash as she dug out the hammer and nails and picture wire.

She straightened the last picture, and stood back to admire the result. The large framed image of Venice that Frank Sunderland had given him hung over the couch, as it had back in South Ashfield Heights. The image of the lake hung by the front door, and was the first thing visible upon entering the house. His other photos were placed around the room, and pictures of their families adorned a side table. Pictures of them at their high school graduations, at family outings...and a picture of Henry as a young boy, light-haired and grinning from ear to ear.

There was another, more recent picture on the table. It showed the two of them, standing together on the shore of the lake outside their townhouse. The water spread out behind them, glistening, and the tall trees loomed dark on the sides. They were both smiling, leaning into each other, her head on his shoulder, without a care in the world.

She remembered that afternoon, just last week, when everything had seemed perfect. Henry had set up the camera and told her to stand still, and he'd spent a long time adjusting things until they were just right.

"Ten seconds," he called as he sprinted back over to her.

"Ten seconds," she responded, wrapping her arms around him and crushing her lips against his.

"Mmmf!" he said, waving one arm frantically toward the camera. After several seconds, she released him, straightened her sweater, and turned to the camera with her best smile just before the shutter clicked.

He smiled mischievously at her. "That was close. You're evil, you know, and I know evil when I see it."

"So…what are you going to do about it?"

He raised one eyebrow, then swept her up with one arm and grabbed the camera and tripod with his other hand. He carried her, laughing and pounding his shoulder with her fists, back into the house.

"Caveman," she said. He growled. She laughed. He put her down, and pulled her in to kiss her.

"You're insatiable, woman," he said.

"Which is entirely your fault," she countered. "If you didn't have such a cute little – "

"That's it. Enough out of you," he said, and picked her up in his arms. She put her hands around his neck, and their eyes never lost contact as he carried her up the stairs…

She looked at the picture now, and wondered, was that just a dream?

"Eileen?"

She snapped out of her reverie. Henry was making his way down the stairs, eyes squeezed shut, waving something at her with one hand as he groped for the banister with the other.

"What _are_ you doing?"

"You made me promise that I wouldn't look," he said. He waved his hand again, and she saw her favorite silk shirt hanging from it, the one she wore to job interviews.

"How am I supposed to wash this?"

She smiled to herself. Henry was a one-hundred-percent cotton sort of guy, through and through. He'd probably never even touched silk before he met her. Well, maybe a silk tie or two.

"Good thing you asked, given your history with laundry."

"Hey. That was _not_ my fault, and you know it."

"Cold water. Put it in the delicates bag, and hang it to dry. It'll be fine."

"OK," he said, and slowly groped his way back up the stairs.

Eileen turned back to the pictures, and was just pondering where she should put the picture of the bicycle from Silent Hill when the phone rang. "I'll get it," she yelled.

Two minutes later, she was streaking up the stairs, calling, "Henry! Henry!"

He came out of the bathroom, carrying a pile of dirty towels. "What? What's wrong?"

She launched herself at him, and the towels fell to the floor. "Nothing, Henry, everything's fine…better than fine." She stepped back. "I got the job at Garland's firm," she said. "I start in two weeks!"

Henry stood, stunned, for a moment, then swept her up off the ground in a bear hug. "That's great!" he said, spinning her around on the narrow landing. "That's the one you really wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes! It's like a dream come true! And the pay is good, too. Now I can really feel like I'm back on my own two feet," she smiled.

He put her down, and she knew immediately that something was wrong.

"Henry? Henry, what is it?"

Henry's face was a mask. Not this, Eileen thought, he's closing off from me, he's pulling away...

"Nothing…I…uh…" He saw her face, and gave up. "I'm really happy for you, I am," he said.

"Henry, you're a lousy liar," she said, crossing her arms. "Something's wrong, been wrong for a while. Can't you tell me what it is?"

He sighed.

"I'm not going to let go of it until you tell me," she said. "I'm worried about you. Whatever this is, I don't want it coming between us."

"That's just it," he said flatly. "I was just hoping that we would have a little longer before…"

Her heart dropped to her knees.

"Before what?"

He leaned back against the bathroom door frame.

"Eileen, I'm…" He turned his face away as he struggled for words.

"I'm afraid that you won't want this any more."

Eileen's jaw dropped open. Henry continued.

"You're not going to need me any more to…to be with you. You can put it all behind you and move on, like we never met and it never happened. None of it. I've been…" He bit his lip.

Eileen stood, stone-still, and let him talk.

"You keep telling me how I saved your life in there, and how much you owe me. I don't want that, Eileen. You don't owe me anything. If you hadn't... I don't want you to think that you owe me a single thing. I've been so…"

She was too stunned to move.

Henry walked to her, and tipped her face up to his. His eyes were filled with love and sorrow.

"I want you to be free. You don't owe me anything. I don't want you to feel that obligation."

He dropped his hand, and for a moment they stood still, looking at each other. Then feeling returned, and Eileen found her voice.

"Henry...David...Townshend," she said, low.

He took a step backward.

"How could you ever think…what gave you any right to…do you really think I would…" She was almost too angry to speak. She took a deep breath, and stared him in the eye.

"You're wrong, Henry. You're so wrong. I do owe you. I owe you everything. I owe you my life. I owe you every minute of every day that I have now. I have no hope of ever repaying that debt, and I have no idea how I'd even start trying.

"But that's not why I'm here. I'm not here because I think I can make it up to you by being here for you, with you. I'm not here because I have nowhere else to go. I'm not here because I think you need to be taken care of, even. I'm here because I WANT TO BE."

Henry was back against the doorjamb, looking at her wide-eyed. Eileen stalked right up to him. He's scared now, she thought. Good.

"I love you, you moron. I love you for you. I don't know why you are too stubborn or whatever to see that, but it's right there under that big nose of yours if you'd just look for it. How could you think that I'd…that I'd SELL myself like that?"

Horror dawned on his face. Eileen had gotten her second wind, and was yelling loudly now.

"How could you think that I'd do that? That I'd give up everything and live a lie because I thought I owed you something? Do you really think I would? If you do, then I'm not the person you thought I was, and you're definitely not the man I thought you were."

She stepped back, shaking. There. She'd said it, and there was no un-saying it. It hung in the air between them like a knife.

"God, no…I hadn't realized…" he said, and put his hands to his face. He ran them back through his hair. "No, Eileen…no, I'd never think that…oh God…I'm so, so sorry…"

He moved toward her, but stopped himself. He hesitated a moment, breathed deeply, and met her eyes.

They stared at each other helplessly.

"I love you, Henry," she said simply.

"And I love you."

It sounded strange to hear him say that.

"That's why this hurts so much."

"Yeah."

They stood for a few moments in silence.

"Is my nose that big?"

"Not really. It just looks that way from some angles."

"Oh. OK."

More silence.

"We can't talk about this now," he finally said.

She nodded. "I know. Not yet."

"I'm going to finish the laundry, then I'll stay out of your way." He bent to pick up the pile of towels on the floor, and went down the stairs to the laundry room. Eileen reached after him, but her hand faltered, and she stood there watching him as he moved out of her sight.

* * *

That evening, Henry buried himself in his darkroom, while Eileen curled up in her favorite chair in the living room with a good book and a large pot of tea. Rain was falling steadily, shrouding the little townhouse in silence.

She had trouble concentrating on her reading, though. After a while, she put the book down and switched on the TV. She turned to a favorite crime drama. It was a rerun, which was just as well considering that she wasn't really paying attention.

It's been a month, she thought. A whole month since we got out of South Ashfield Heights and started over here. Almost a month since he kissed me for the first time. Not a long time overall, but a long time in a relationship...and for this whole month, he thought I was just…playing along because I owe him my life? Did he really think that, all the time we were…all this time? This is real, for me. Why can't he see that?

Or, does he think that that's what he should get? What he deserves? For saving me from becoming Walter's "Holy Mother"? My eternal gratitude, like this? Does he really? I can't say that he'd be wrong.

No…I can't see that in him. Perhaps I don't know him as well as I thought, but I just can't see him doing that. He doesn't seem like the type. I've been wrong before about guys, but it just doesn't fit Henry. He's never said or done anything that could remotely imply that. He treats me like a queen. Every time I bring it up, he looks very uncomfortable, like he doesn't want to talk about it.

I don't know. I just don't know…

The doorbell rang. It took Eileen a little while to register the sound, since their doorbell had never rung before. She got up and went to the door.

As she moved her head to the peephole, a memory floated through her mind. Henry had told her of the hauntings he'd seen in 302 whenever he returned during their trip through hell. There had been rattling windows, ghosts coming through the walls, blood running from his faucet ... but the worst was when he'd seen blood dripping from his peephole. When he looked through, he'd seen his own ghost, still in his shirt, with "21/21" carved into his flesh, and blood everywhere. The thing that wasn't Henry stood with its head back, dead eyes almost hidden by its hair, twitching and causing him so much pain by its mere presence…her blood had run cold when he'd told her about that.

So, when she looked through, she wasn't about to be surprised by whatever stared back. However, she wasn't expecting to see the dripping-wet face of Detective Orosco.

He'd been the friendly cop who had questioned her and Henry the day after. What surprised her the most was that he'd been understanding and completely accepting of what they'd told him. Anyone else would have thought they were crazy, but John Orosco had believed them…that had been such a relief. That day, he'd been comforting, open, and willing to listen, a friendly face in a sea of reporters shoving microphones at them and cops with odd looks on their faces.

Tonight was different. Orosco looked as though he'd seen a ghost. And when he stood back from the peephole, she saw why.

An equally soaked Frank Sunderland was standing there with him.


	4. Chapter 4

Frank had not been seen since that terrible night in South Ashfield Heights. No trace of him had turned up. Some said that he'd been killed by Sullivan's ghost. Some said that he'd fled town to avoid being sued for allowing people to live in a building he knew to be severely in need of exorcism. Still others said that he'd killed himself, finally breaking after the loss of his son and daughter-in-law several years before, and this final blow. And a few said that, with nothing left in this world but his memories, he'd gone mad and run to Silent Hill to try to find them.

Given what she'd seen that night, his presence with Orosco on their doorstep didn't necessarily exclude the suicide theory…

Her hand pulled open the drawer in the doorside table and grabbed the gun that Henry kept there "just in case", and she opened the door a crack.

"Miss Galvin, may we come in?" Orosco was shivering. His thick black hair was plastered to his head.

She looked from one to the other. They didn't seem to be ghosts. Sunderland looked gaunt and tired, but very much alive.

"As long as you're not going to kill me."

Orosco smiled. "Scout's honor."

She opened the door, and admitted the two men. Her mind whirled as she took their wet coats, shook them off outside the door, and hung them up. Why were they here? Where had Orosco found Sunderland? And what was the emergency that brought them here so late?

"How did you find us?" she asked.

"A few calls to the local rental agencies. Nothing unusual."

"Weird. The reporters could have done the same thing, I guess, but they never showed up."

Orosco nodded. "We told them to leave you two alone. For once, they actually did what we asked them to." He snorted. "Even they have their boundaries."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

She showed them into the front room.

"Is Henry in?" Orosco asked. "This concerns him too."

"I thought it might," Eileen said. "Hang on, I'll get him." She motioned toward the kitchen. "Help yourselves. No dead cats in the fridge, I promise." Orosco gave a wry smile, but Sunderland just looked confused.

The door to the darkroom was closed. Eileen knocked.

No response.

"Henry…"

Still no response.

"Henry. Open up."

She heard a small crash, like something being knocked over, and then after a few moments the door opened. In the deep red light, Henry's face was strained. Usually there were prints hanging up to dry, trays of chemicals…but this time, it looked as though he hadn't been working at all.

"What is it?"

"We have company."

Henry just nodded and stepped through the door, and she followed him out.

The look on his face when he saw who was there was priceless. Orosco sat on the couch, elbows on knees, perusing one of Henry's car magazines, while Sunderland sat in Eileen's chair, sipping a diet soda and watching TV.

Orosco stood. "Henry," he said, extending his hand. Henry shook it mutely, jaw hanging open. "Good to see you again. Too bad it has to be under such circumstances."

Henry closed his mouth. "Yes…good to see you, too." He looked over at Sunderland. "Um…not to be rude, but what brings you here?"

Orosco sighed. "It's a long story."

"Yeah, I thought so."

Eileen sat on the couch next to Orosco, while Henry fetched the chair from the darkroom and placed it next to her. He picked up the remote and turned off the TV. Sunderland turned back toward the group, dazed.

"First thing is, I want both of you to know that I wouldn't be here unless it was absolutely essential," Orosco said. "I know that you two have probably been trying to forget all of that, and that my presence reminds you of it. I debated for hours about coming to you, but in the end I had no other choice."

He took a deep breath.

"I'm here because of Frank," he said, nodding toward Sunderland, who was staring at the pictures on the walls. "Ever since I talked to you two, I've been trying to find him to find out what he knew about all of this. I followed all the leads, investigated all the rumors…and earlier today, I found him. Sometime that night, he had gone to Silent Hill."

"Why?" Eileen asked, although she thought she knew the answer.

"Looking for his son," Orosco said. "He's been there all this time, wandering in the fog, trying to find him or his daughter-in-law."

"They're there somewhere," Sunderland said, leaning forward. His eyes were a little wild, but he sounded rational. "I know it. See, Jim's car is still there, and he never goes anywhere without his car. It's a piece of junk, but he loves it. And he never goes anywhere without Mary. They're there somewhere, and I know they're alive."

Henry leaned forward toward Frank. "Mr. Sunderland…" he said gently.

"Frank. Call me Frank. After all that I've put you through…"

"You didn't do that, Frank," Eileen said. "That was Walter Sullivan's fault, not yours."

Frank flinched at Sullivan's name. "I should have known. I should have known that something bad was going to happen to you, Henry. There was too much bad history in that apartment."

"You mean, Walter's birth, his parents abandoning him, the weird noises twenty-four years later, Joseph Schreiber's disappearance…yeah, I'd say that that was a lot of bad history," Henry said.

Frank put his head in his hands.

"John has filled me in on what happened to you two. Because of that man and that damn room. I don't know what I can say. 'I'm sorry' isn't enough…nothing could ever be enough."

"It's over," Henry said. "He's dead. We know what happened now. It was unavoidable."

Franks shook his head. "No. Maybe if you'd known...there's more," he said.

Eileen and Henry both stared at him.

"_More?_" Eileen asked.

Frank nodded. "I didn't tell you, Henry, because I thought you wouldn't rent the apartment. It was a terrible reason, and I was very weak…I'm sorry…" He took a deep breath. "But there's one other thing which I've never told anyone about until today. Not all of it.

"You know about my son and daughter-in-law. They disappeared several years back, before either of you moved in. That's all I've ever told people. That's all they needed to know. But there's a lot more to it than just that…

"A while before Walter Sullivan killed those ten people, my daughter-in-law became very sick. Very, very sick. It all happened so quickly…one day, she was healthy and happy, and the next, she was in the hospital, sicker than I'd ever seen anyone. I've never heard of anything like it. The doctors couldn't tell us what was going on, nobody told us anything, and Mary just got worse and worse.

"After a while Jim's medical insurance wouldn't pay for her any more. He had to sell their house. They had no money, so I let them live in 302. Just for a little while, we told ourselves, until she gets better and they're back on their feet again. She was in the hospital, so it was just Jim in there, but I helped them move their things in so he could set the place up for when she came home.

"But she didn't get better. Months passed. Jim went to doctor after doctor, and none of them could give him any hope. She was dying…Jim visited her every now and then. I got on his back about it. Told him he had to go see her more. But I think he couldn't bear to see her like that. She got angry, yelled at him, cried, begged him to stay, and he couldn't take it. He wanted to see her, but it was so hard on him…

"Finally, the doctors let her come home. Nobody said anything, but we all knew that this was the last time, that she was coming home for good. I still remember Jim carrying her to the bedroom. I can hear her… 'James', she said (I'm the only one who calls him Jim…even his mother called him James), 'James, now that I'm here, we can be together always.' It…" He put his head in his hands.

Eileen crouched next to Frank and put her hand on his shoulder. "Frank, I'm so sorry," she said.

Frank lifted his head after a moment and smiled weakly at her. "Eileen, I've known you and your folks since you were a little girl. You've always had the kindest heart of anybody I've known. James thought the world of you."

She smiled. "I remember him so well, when I was growing up. He and Mary seemed so happy together. I couldn't believe it when you told me he'd disappeared…I didn't know what to say…"

Frank nodded, then continued.

"Mary stayed with Jim in 302 for a few weeks. Her bad moods were almost gone, and she even was able to muster up a smile for her old father-in-law when I came by. But Jim…I've never seen a man as haunted as he was then. It was as if the thing that was eating Mary was eating him too. Around her, he was all smiles, and he treated her like a princess, but outside that bedroom, he was a shadow of my boy. He didn't do anything except go to work and sleep on the couch. He barely ate. Toward the end, he was about to lose his job…his boss had been very patient, but finally enough was enough, which Jim understood.

"Then, one day, I came by and they were both gone. Their things were still there, as if they had just gone out for a little bit. Jim left a note, saying that he had promised to take Mary back to Silent Hill one more time, and so he had.

"That was all. I never saw either one of them again. Nobody has. A few weeks later, those weird noises started coming out of 302. You know the rest."

Frank wiped his eye.

"They're still there. I know it. I've heard that things happen there when the fog rolls in…people get lost and never find their way out. I was hoping…hoping for what, I don't know. It's crazy. But it's all I've got now." He looked at Henry with a stricken face. "Henry, I'm sorry. I should have told you. But you..." He looked away. "You remind me of him sometimes..."

The room was silent. Eileen was aghast. She hadn't realized how much tragedy this man had suffered until now…he'd saved an abandoned baby from certain death, his son and daughter-in-law had disappeared in mysterious circumstances, his apartment building had been turned into a charnel house by a madman, and now he'd lost what little he'd had left and was reduced to trying to live in his past.

She looked at Orosco. Even he hadn't heard the whole story until now, judging by the expression on his face.

Henry seemed thoughtful, as he often did when reflecting on their night in hell.

"I lived there for two years before anything happened," he said, neutrally, shattering the silence. "Those were two good years. You know, when I first saw the place, I felt drawn to it, as if it was my destiny to live there. Unfortunately, I was right."

He leaned across the coffee table toward Frank. "It wasn't your fault that those things happened to Eileen and to me. Sooner or later, Walter would have brought me to the building to do what he needed to do. I would have ended up in 302, and things would have happened as they did. You couldn't have stopped that. You had no way of knowing what had happened."

"I should have figured out that something was wrong. There was too much going on. But I never did. After Joseph disappeared, I should have noticed the remodeling. He walled off the whole back of the apartment..."

"Now that I think about it, Henry, I don't remember seeing that ugly wallpaper in your apartment that everyone else had," Eileen said. "Sorry, Frank, but it was pretty awful."

"Joseph must have realized that he couldn't put it back up to conceal his work," Orosco added. "He must have removed all of it."

"A definite improvement," Henry replied. They smiled. Orosco grinned, too, and even Frank managed a small smile.

Henry turned to Orosco.

"I don't want to ask…but how does this involve us?"

Orosco's grin evaporated.

"Frank and I are going back to Silent Hill. We need your help."


	5. Chapter 5

Eileen's mouth dropped open.

"Silent Hill? Why?" she croaked.

"You two are the only people I know of who have been through that kind of hell and come back," John replied.

"Yes, but…but we weren't in Silent Hill…we were in Ashfield for most of it," she stammered. "We were in the subway, and across the street, and in the apartments…"

"Actually," Henry said, "we were out by the lake at one point. Remember, by the orphanage?"

Orosco stared at Henry. "You two went to Wish House?"

"Yeah," Henry said. "Before and after it burned down. We also went through the cylindrical prison that the orphanage ran."

Orosco drew in his breath. "I thought that place was just a myth."

"If only," Eileen said. "It's a horrible place, but it's real. At least, as real as any of it was. Everywhere else we went seemed to be connected to real places, so I guess that must have been real, too."

"Are we really the only two people you can find?" Henry asked. "I mean, there have been all of these rumors about the things that happen there…of all of those people, we're the only two who made it out alive?"

"Almost everyone else hasn't come back," Orosco said simply.

"Almost?"

Orosco sat back, and took another deep breath.

"Almost twenty years ago, a man went into town in search of his daughter, who'd gotten lost after their car wrecked outside of town. He came back out without her, but with a baby girl. Word is that that girl grew up and went back there with some private detective or someone a year or two ago, after her father was murdered by the cult. They got out, but I can't find any trace of them." Orosco ran his hand through his damp hair. "Not for lack of trying, believe me. I know almost all of the private dicks around here, but nobody's heard a single thing. Of course, if I were them, I'd go to ground and never show my face around here again. Too dangerous."

Everyone nodded.

"So, you two are it," he said, spreading his hands wide. "You have fought your way through the demons and made it out in one piece. You're the only ones who have. Anyone else going in there would be dead in ten minutes."

"Well…Henry did most of the fighting," Eileen admitted. "I trailed around after him and swatted at things with my handbag."

Frank looked astonished, but Orosco laughed.

"You did a lot more than that," Henry said. "You're deadly with a nightstick. Are you trying to weasel out of this?" He raised his eyebrow at her.

Eileen was tempted to snap at him, but that little twinkle, almost invisible, was in his eye.

"Yeah, like I'd let you go in there without me," she said. "Somebody's gotta keep you out of trouble."

"Well, as long as there aren't any ladders..."

Eileen stood up and walked back to her chair, smacking Henry on the head lightly on her way. "Excuse us for a moment," she said, and grabbed his arm and pulled him into the darkroom. She closed the door.

"What? That hurt," Henry said, rubbing his head.

"I'd never let you go in there without me."

"I knew you wouldn't. I just wanted you to have an out in case…"

"In case of what?"

Henry shook his head. "You've been through enough. I couldn't ask you to do this."

"You could, but you wouldn't. I'm going with you, and I would even if I didn't owe you a life debt. You mean too damn much to me," Eileen said, and she stared at the join of his collarbones as her fingers wended their way through his. "I just wish you'd accept that."

She looked up at him.

"So, are we going?" she asked softly.

He sighed. "We have to."

* * *

The next morning, Henry packed the arsenal of weapons and other supplies that he'd accumulated into an old duffel bag, and they all got into his old battered truck. As they were leaving town, they stopped to get food, ammo, and whatever else they thought they might need. Finally, they hit the road that would take them around the lake to Silent Hill.

As they rode along, Eileen asked Frank about James and Mary. Frank was only too happy to tell her all about them; the years hadn't diminished his fatherly pride one bit. He went on and on happily about them, and how happy they had been and how proud he'd been of them.

Orosco rode up front with Henry. They were silent for a while.

"Mind if I ask a personal question?" Henry began.

"Not at all."

"Is Frank the only reason you want to go to Silent Hill?"

"No," Orosco said, looking out the window.

"Your sister."

Orosco nodded. "She disappeared around the same time as James and Mary. Maybe I can find some sign of her, or maybe somebody saw her there…"

Henry drove as Orosco talked. Frank and Eileen had stopped talking, and listened to Orosco's story in silence.

"She was my little sister," he said. "When we were kids, she did all those typical little-sister things…tagged along when I went to baseball practice, you know. She was a great kid. All my friends treated her like their little sister, too. I looked out for her, made sure she never got bullied at school, you know, big-brother stuff. We were happy back then…

"When I was fifteen, Mom died. We buried her in Silent Hill. After the funeral, I moved out on my own. Angela was too young, so she went with our father to Paleville.

"I should never have left her alone with him." His voice grew harsh, and his fists were white at the knuckles. "I had no idea…I never thought that he would…

"Years later, I got a call. Our father was dead. Murdered. He'd been knifed to death. And Angie was missing. At first, the police thought that she'd been kidnapped or killed too, but they found no sign of any of that, and my father's van was gone. Later, people said they'd seen her driving away from the house, erratically…the last time the van was seen, it was on the road to Silent Hill. Maybe she went to visit Mom…

"When the police entered the house..." Orosco hesitated. "They found…evidence of the things that he did to her. It was crystal-clear. They tried to keep me out of the house, but I saw it all. It made me vomit. There was no sign of a break-in, or of anybody else at the house, so the police concluded that she'd finally done something about it.

"That's why I joined the police force. I wanted to do what I could to keep others from suffering like she had. And, maybe, someday, I'd hear something that would help me find out what happened to her. But all these years, I never had a real hope of finding her...not until now.

"I've never blamed her. I just want to tell her that, that it's OK, that I still love her and that I understand. I want her to come home."

The interior of the truck was quiet now. Frank leaned forward and put his hand onto Orosco's shoulder. "Detective…"

"Call me John. Please."

"John…maybe she's still there, too. Maybe we can find her."

_Don't get your hopes up,_ Eileen thought.

* * *

The truck pulled into a rest stop on Route 73 just outside of town.

"That's it!" Frank yelled. He pulled himself out of the truck and hurried toward an old blue sedan parked across the spaces outside the rest-stop bathrooms. "See? That's Jim's car. He wouldn't have just left it behind."

The driver's door was open, as was the trunk. The car was empty, except for a spare tire pushed deep into the back of the trunk. The interior light was on.

"That's weird," Henry said. "The battery should have run out years ago."

"But it's here anyway," Frank said. "See? Time runs differently here…" He moved around the car slowly, inspecting it.

Eileen wandered to the wall overlooking the lake. Henry followed her.

"God, it's gorgeous," she said. "Just like we knew it would be."

"Yes," he said. "I wish we were here for a vacation, instead."

"That's OK," she replied. "We will someday. I'm sure of it."

Henry took out his digital camera and snapped a picture of the lake. Then, he backed up several paces, and Eileen heard the click of the shutter again.

"Henry!" she chided. "You take that thing everywhere!"

He lowered the camera, which had been pointed at her. "It's easier to carry than the Pentax," he replied with a shrug.

John was at the other end of the lot, looking at a large white van. They joined him.

"This is Dad's van," John said slowly. "Angie did drive it here. She did come to Silent Hill after all…" His fingers moved over the van's surface, and he peered through a window.

"It's empty," he said. "No, wait..."

He opened the passenger door, and pulled out something dark and woolen.

"This is her coat," he said. "I haven't seen this in so long...but it's definitely hers. She's wandering around this godforsaken place without a coat. Mom always had to remind her to put her coat on when it was cold..."

He hugged the coat to his chest for a moment, then he put it back in the van.

The fog was rolling in from the lake now, in long white fingers. Eileen shivered, but not from the cold.

"Where's Frank?" Henry asked. They looked around, but the old man was nowhere in sight. The blue car stood abandoned as it had before.

"Maybe he's in the building," Eileen said.

"I'll check. You two stay out here," John said, and he went in. Henry put his arm around Eileen, who leaned into his warmth.

John came out a minute later. "He's not in there. I don't know where he would have gone. I did find this," he said, opening his hand. A strange blue gem glittered in his palm.

"Damn. Now we have to find him, too…" Henry frowned. "He's out there without a weapon or anything."

"Speaking of which…" Eileen walked back over to the truck and pulled the duffel bag from its back. "Let's do this before we go any further."

Henry gave them each a Saint Medallion, and explained its use, along with plenty of other food and ammo supplies. John already had his police-issue gun, so Henry took the pistol for himself and gave Eileen the revolver.

"This was Richard's," he told her as he loaded it.

"Richard? Braintree?"

"Yeah. I found it in his room after he died."

John took the bat, Henry grabbed the axe, and Eileen took the spade and the piece of pipe.

"I haven't held one of these in years," John said. He took a few practice swings.

"It's good to have decent weapons for once. Beats a handbag and a nightstick any day," Eileen said.

"Hey!" said John jokingly. "Don't knock nightsticks. All cops have a soft spot for them. It's a historical thing."

"Yeah, but _this_ -- " Eileen swung the spade -- "is a lot more effective." It made a solid _clank_ as it hit the concrete of the parking lot.

"Point taken," he smiled.

Henry shouldered the backpack that he'd stuffed into the duffel bag before leaving. "I have enough in here to last us for a while. Learned that lesson last time…I never had enough space to carry things." He patted one of the multitude of pockets on his photographer's jacket. "Not going to let that happen again."

"Well, we can't drive," Eileen said, indicating the blocked-off tunnel bidding them WECOM! "We're going to have to walk."

So the three set off down the parking lot, and descended the steps. Eileen turned back for one last look at Henry's truck, not knowing when they might see it again. Henry caught her eye, and smiled encouragement at her.

They trudged down the dirt path, which wound its way along the side of the hill for a long time. Eileen kept stride with Henry. "See?" she said. "I'm keeping up just fine this time."

"For a change."

She elbowed him in the ribs, and he grinned at her.

"Sorry, but that was too easy," he said. She made a face at him.

After a while, they came to a well on the side of the path. John stopped to look in, but stepped back quickly.

"Makes me feel all weird when I look at it," he said. "Like something's poking around in my head. Let's keep going."

After a short walk, they came to a wide graveyard. John stopped at the gate.

"This place…I think this is where we buried Mama…our mother," he said. He pushed open the gate, looked around, and hurried forward to one of the gravestones.

"Yes. Here it is. She's here," he said. He bent and touched the stone softly, then jerked his hand away. "Look."

Henry and Eileen looked. The normal dirt and dust covering the stone had been wiped off recently. The name OROSCO was clear against the granite.

"Someone's been looking at it. Today, maybe yesterday or the day before. Someone's been here!"

He ran toward the far side of the graveyard. A small chapel stood by the stone wall. He opened the door and rushed inside. Henry and Eileen followed him.

The interior of the chapel was dark. As Eileen's eyes adjusted to the change, she saw John standing at the end of the aisle, in front of the altar. They made their way to him, as he fell to his knees, head hanging.

"I was hoping that this wouldn't happen..." he said.

In front of him on the floor was a large red circular emblem, with three circles around its middle. A faint but familiar smell rose from it.

"What the hell…" Henry said. "It can't be…"

"It has to be," Eileen replied.

"It's the cult," John said. "It's drawn in blood."


	6. Chapter 6

They made their way toward town. The fog was very heavy now, and they could barely see twenty feet in front of them. They moved slowly, weapons at the ready.

The road wound along the cliffside, deserted, with the occasional vehicle parked along the side as if pulled over for just a moment. After a long while, a small structure emerged from the fog. They passed through the gate, which opened onto a short enclosed walkway.

Henry stooped to pick up a newspaper lying on the ground. He blew off the dust.

"It's been here for a while," he said.

"What's the date on it?" John asked.

Henry shook his head. "It's too faded…I can't read it."

The walkway opened onto a dirt path. It wound through the trees past an old ranch. The gates to the ranch were locked.

Across the path from the ranch sat a pile of logs.

"Smell that?" Eileen asked. "Fresh sawdust."

John peered at the log at the top of the stack. "From a fresh cut. Looks as though there was a chainsaw here not too long ago."

Henry laughed. "A chainsaw, huh? Sounds useful."

Eventually the path led them onto a paved street. Their footsteps echoed off the concrete, and they knew that they'd found the town.

The streets were deserted, it seemed, even though it was nearly midday. Fog wrapped around everything like a cold blanket, and the silence was deep. It looked like a normal town, otherwise…restaurants, shops, the usual. Just very, very quiet…

…but not quiet enough.

John stopped suddenly, and they froze. A faint shuffling sound was coming out of the mist in front of them, moving away. They crept forward.

A figure wobbled from side to side, staggering along as if drunk. Its skin was grayish, and it was covered in blood and pus. Its arms seemed trapped against its sides under its skin. It smelled horrible.

John gasped.

The figure stopped and turned quickly. They were just able to back up out of the way before it bent backward, split open and sprayed something evil-looking at them. The liquid hissed and smoked as it hit the concrete at their feet.

Henry quickly circled around its back and swung the axe before it could turn around. It groaned and fell to its knees. Another quick blow, and another, and it lay on the ground. Eileen ran forward and stomped on its head once. Blood pooled on the ground around it.

John's stunned gaze moved from the body to Eileen's bloody boot, and back again.

"What…the HELL…was that?"

"That's why you brought us here," Eileen said.

"Welcome to our nightmare," Henry said. He surveyed their surroundings. "The monsters may be different, but the rest feels familiar."

John shuddered. "My God...when I found Frank here, I never saw anything like this."

"We're probably going to see a lot more," Henry replied. He shifted the axe in his hands.

"You're good with that thing," John said.

"A skill I wish I didn't need."

They proceeded further down the street, and came across a wide smear of blood, trailing off down a side street. The street led to a gate, then to a construction blockage in front of a deserted archway. They turned back.

As they neared the street they'd just left, the scuffling sound returned, and another of the wobbling monsters trudged toward them. Henry made short work of the thing.

Another shuffled up to them and reared back. They ran out of its path, and Eileen brought her shovel down on its head. It scurried away, but John caught up with it and beat it down, then stomped on it.

"You're getting the hang of this," Eileen said.

John nodded grimly.

* * *

They continued on, and John found plenty of opportunity to hone his batting and stomping skills. Eileen noted that three able-bodied people with weapons definitely made many things easier…including staying alive.

Most of the doors they tried in town were locked. It was as if the whole town had just closed down for the day. The shops were dark and quiet, and the fog shrouded everything in a thick, diffuse gray light.

In a residential part of town, they came across a mutilated body. Henry bent down to pick up the sheets of bloody paper that lay around the corpse.

"Anything?" Eileen asked.

Henry shuffled through the papers. "Nothing that we didn't know already," he said.

They explored the center of town, finding every door locked as they went. There seemed to be a lot of construction going on in the streets...well, not actually going on. Many roads were partly blocked with sawhorses and yellow caution tape, and a few were completely blocked by fabric barriers. But nobody was around.

Nobody human and alive, that is.

But they kept trying the doorknobs anyway.

Eileen's hand was starting to get sore when the latest knob actually turned in her hand, and the door swung inward. They entered a small room with a dingy counter that had seen better days. The large window was covered with newspaper, and over it was written, in red:

_There was a HOLE here. It's gone now._

John looked at Henry. "What do you make of that?"

Henry frowned. "I don't know," he said. "Maybe our experience wasn't unique."

There was nothing else of interest in the room. The walls were blank and peeling. Part of the counter was clear of dust, as if something large had lain on it recently, but the space was empty. They left the room and continued up the street.

Some time later, they came across a trailer near the end of a street. The trailer was empty except for a note on the table, written neatly on a single sheet of white paper.

_Why are you here? Perhaps he doesn't want to be found. Have you thought of that? Or, perhaps, you don't realize what you're getting yourselves into. _

_Maybe he's in Hell. Or, maybe he's dead, or worse. Maybe it would be best for everyone if you didn't find him. Let sleeping men lie. _

_Maybe. _

_At any rate, you're here. Best of luck. You're going to need it. I don't envy you your task. Not at all._

"Sheesh. That's encouraging," Henry said.

"Thoughtful of whoever to warn us, though," Eileen replied.

John stared from one to the other. "How can you two be so...casual about all of this?"

Eileen shrugged. "If you worry too much, you're going to go crazy."

John turned back to Henry, who nodded agreement.

"There's not much else you can do."

"What _can_ we do?"

"Keep our eyes open," Henry said, "and our weapons ready."

* * *

"So," John said, as they walked along past the empty shops. "You used to know James. What was he like?" 

Eileen thought for a moment. "I didn't know him really well. He was a lot older than I was. The last time I saw him, I was still just a kid, eleven or twelve maybe, and he was twice my age. But he seemed like a great guy. Outgoing. Always had a smile and a joke, and he knew just how to make me laugh."

"Sounds like a popular guy," John said.

Eileen laughed. "Popular with the girls, anyway. I didn't meet any of the guys he hung out with, but whenever I'd visit him and his dad, he was always going on about some girl. My friends thought he was pretty cute."

Henry raised an eyebrow at her, but she ignored him.

"A ladies' man, then?"

"Not really, actually. It wasn't like he went after them...they came to him. Seemed like it was never the same one twice...until Mary, anyway."

"What was she like?"

Eileen bit her lip.

"I guess...pleasant, to look at. Pretty, even. But unremarkable...you wouldn't give her a second look in a crowd. But she was the center of James' world. At least it seemed that way...he was certainly the center of hers. She lived for him. I got the impression from what she said that she couldn't believe her luck."

"What were they like...toward the end?"

Eileen shook her head. "I don't know. After they were married, I didn't see them as often. They had gotten their own house, and so James wasn't living with his father any more. I only saw them a few times before she got sick...they seemed happy enough.

"After she got ill, I didn't see them at all. James never came down to his father's apartment when we were there, and my parents didn't feel right about visiting them somehow. All I knew was what Frank told them...that Mary was very sick and wasn't getting better. Then, they were gone."

The three walked in silence for a while.

"Do you think that they might have come here? Or is Frank..."

"I don't know," she said. "But it seems like a possibility. One time when we visited Frank, they were there too. They'd just come back from their vacation to Silent Hill, and Mary went on for ages about how much she loved it here. She said that you could really sense the spirits in the place."

"My mother used to say the same thing when we visited here," Henry said. "She would tell me ghost stories that her mother had told her, late at night in the hotel...somehow, they seemed more real here."

"She really seemed to love it. She said she wanted to go back every year. Maybe James really did bring her back here one last time..."

They were silent for a moment. Then, a shuffling footstep moved nearer, and they readied their weaponry yet again.

* * *

At the end of one street, they found a high barrier wall covered in white fabric. The fabric was dingy and dirty, as if it had been there for a long time, but was intact. 

They'd seen walls like this before, blocking areas apparently under construction. What was different was the small door in the corner, with a brass knob. On the door was written one word, in red:

_Joy_

"Your turn, John," Eileen said.

His hand turned the knob, and the door opened readily.

Darkness lay beyond, and even the light that filtered in from the outside seemed to be swallowed up before it reached the interior.

"I'll go first," John said. He readied his gun, and they passed through the door.

The darkness was complete. The door slammed shut behind them, and Eileen felt like she'd just been sealed into a coffin...

Suddenly, the room was filled with light. They blinked for a moment, then looked around.

They stood facing a wall. The room, which had felt smallish in the dark, was actually very small, not more than a closet. In the wall was a large, round...

"Hole," Henry said under his breath. "Never thought I'd see one of these again."

"Is this what they looked like?" John asked, peering at the red markings around the edge of the hole.

"Yeah," Henry replied. "Just like this. Eileen, can you see it?"

"This time, yes," she said. "I guess that we all can. But I can't read the writing."

"Well, if there's one thing I know how to do...it's crawl through holes," Henry said. "I'll go first."

As Eileen crawled, she realized that the tunnel was long, very long. The other end glowed faintly in the distance. The darkness was stifling. She could only see Henry's silhouette as he led the way forward...

* * *

They were standing in a large, dark area outdoors. The sky was clouded over, and the area was shrouded in an inky blackness. An empty lot stretched in front of them into the darkness. The nighttime air was crisp, and a light breeze blew a few bits of trash across the concrete at their feet. 

"Wait a minute," John said slowly. "I know where we are."

"Where are we?" Eileen asked.

"This is the old drive-in in Paleville," John said, looking around. "I remember this place. My friends and I used to come out here on Friday nights in high school. We'd pile into my friend's trunk and sneak in for free. You know." He breathed deeply. "Haven't been here in fifteen years..."

He inhaled sharply.

"Something's wrong."

"What?" Henry asked.

"This can't be right," John said. "It's impossible."

"Why?"

"This place closed down ten years ago. The screen finally fell down during a showing of 'The Texas Chainsaw Massacre' - the Tobe Hooper version - and that same night the concession booth went up in flames. Owners never bothered to fix it up. Last I heard, it was full of weeds, and the only people who came out here were teenagers looking for a little privacy."

Yet the screen loomed tall at the side of the lot, and the old speakers stood like sentinels in rows in the darkness.

Just then, the clouds shifted, and the area was flooded with moonlight. A single car became visible some distance away, alone in the center of the lot. The sound of a running engine was just barely audible.

They hurried toward the car. It was an older blue sedan...a familiar-looking one. Its engine was idling, and its windows were clouded up on the inside.

John smiled, and pressed his nose to the glass. "If I were on duty, I'd have to bust 'em. Nobody in there, though."

"It's his car," Henry said.

"But this place hasn't been here for years," John replied. He shook his head. "We can't be standing here. It doesn't exist any more. Not like this. It's just not possible."

Henry shrugged. "I got the feeling sometimes when I was passing through those places that some of them...weren't completely real. Not that they weren't real places...more that they were kind of surreal, like in somebody's dream. In the subway, the token machines were really old, like when I was a kid, not like the newer ones that are down there now. It was like I was inside somebody's memory from years ago.

"When Eileen and I got back to Room 302, it wasn't like it is now. The furniture was still there, but things were changed and rearranged, like somebody else was living there. Everything was gray. I think we were seeing it as Joseph had had it, in his memory of the room...I know it sounds weird, but it was as if we were years in the past. Maybe that's what's happening here, too. Maybe James and Mary were here once, back when this place was still showing movies."

"They might have come out here sometime," Eileen said. "I used to hear him telling Frank all about the girls he'd seen at the drive-in."

The speaker box by the car popped and whistled, and the screen in front of the car flickered to life.

They saw the drive-in, but in better times. It was a warm, clear summer evening. Dusk threw long shadows across the lot. People thronged around the concession booth, talking and laughing, walking to and fro, carrying hot dogs and enormous sodas and buckets of popcorn.

A tall blond man in light blue jeans and a black T-shirt was leaning casually against one corner of the building, sipping a soda and glancing around. He was young and lean, and held his head up with assurance.

"That's James," Eileen said. "Just like I remember him."

James checked his watch and peered off into the distance.

"He's looking toward the men's room," John said. "Waiting for a buddy, I guess."

A young woman walked up to the counter next to James and asked for a soda and a small popcorn. She wore a skirt, blouse and sandals, and her long brown hair hung around her shoulders. As the soda machine hissed, she fumbled in her purse.

"Oh no," she said, frantically rummaging around.

"Something wrong, miss?" the attendant asked her, setting her soda on the counter.

"I'm...I'm sorry," she said. "I must have left my wallet at home. I can't pay." Her face was red. She put her hands up to her head. "I can't believe this..."

James moved next to her, and put his hand on her shoulder.

"Allow me," he said, throwing a couple of bills on the counter in front of the attendant. "Keep the change." The man smiled broadly.

As she stared open-mouthed, he handed her the soda and popcorn with a smile and steered the two of them away from the counter.

"Thank you," she said. "I..."

"Don't worry about it," James said.

"No, I...I'll...how can I repay you?" She bit her lip as she seemed to realize what she'd just said.

James just smiled. "Tell me your name."

"Mary. Mary Shepherd."

"James Sunderland," he replied, "at your service." He gave an ostentatious bow, and she giggled.

"Well, James Sunderland, come here often?"

"Isn't that my line?"

"Not any more." She smiled. They walked offscreen, chatting and laughing.

The scene faded to another scene. This one was in fuzzy black and white, and flickered noiselessly.

A woman lay on a bed...in a hospital. The walls were bloody, and the woman lay neglected and alone on the mattress, bare but for a single pillow. She was bruised and bandaged, and lay unmoving.

_She's..._

Eileen felt Henry stiffen by her side, and a moment later she realized why.

The door opened and closed, and a dark-haired man entered the room. He walked up to the bed, and crouched down by it for a moment. His hand moved to the woman's head and stroked the brown hair away from her face gently. He seemed to be talking to her. He stood and leaned over her, and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. His pale shirt glowed ghostly in the darkness.

The man crouched again and took the woman's hand, his other hand resting on the pillow by her head. Her face turned to him, and she smiled.

There was something otherworldly about the scene, Eileen thought absently. The three of them stood like stone, eyes fixed on the screen. This was her and Henry, in the hospital, but not them...this never happened, not like this...

Then a quick movement. Something square and white flashed. The pillow was over the woman's face, as pale as the shirt back that bunched and moved as the muscles beneath pressed down with their full might. Legs kicked to no effect. Soon, their motion slowed, and then quieted.

The film snapped and popped and finally seemed to break. The screen went white, then faded to black.

The three viewers stood by the old blue car, motionless and silent. Eileen could only imagine what was going on in Henry's head.

"What...was that?" John asked.

"I don't know," Eileen said simply. "That never happened."

"I'd figured that out, but..."

"Let's get out of here," Henry said, and strode purposefully toward the concession stand. John and Eileen hurried to follow him.

* * *

The stand was just as deserted as the rest of the lot, of course. It was unlocked, and empty. Soda cups and popcorn cartons littered the floor, blown around by a slight breeze that rustled the posters on the walls and was sucked into the gaping round hole behind the popcorn machine. 

"You two ready to go?" John asked.

"Very," Eileen said.

John disappeared into the hole. Eileen was about to pull herself in after him when she felt a hand on her arm.

The look on Henry's face was one she'd never seen before. His eyes were enormous. He said nothing. They stood like that for a moment, his fingers gripping her wrist painfully, until Henry dropped his hand.

"Are you..."

Eileen nodded. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah. You know I'd never - "

"I know," Eileen said. "Later, OK?"

Henry nodded, and she headed into the hole.

* * *

**The idea for this drive-in came from Brian McKay's SH1 survival guide over at GameFaqs. Since we haven't had one in the games (yet), I thought I'd put one in here instead.**


	7. Chapter 7

After what seemed like an eternity, they dropped out of the end of the passage into a large room. The lighting was dim, but Eileen could make out a few dozen small, round tables around the edges with chairs and decorations. At the far end of the room was a long table that ran the width of the space, with a dozen or so chairs behind it. The middle of the room was clear of tables. White and gray decorations adorned the walls.

"What the..." Henry said. He took his pack off and dropped it by the hole.

"It looks like a party." John said.

"Guys," Eileen said, pointing at the tall cake sitting on a table in front of the long table. "This is no party. This is a wedding reception."

"You're right," John said. "Wonder whose."

Henry approached the cake cautiously. It seemed like a typical wedding cake, with three layers and a little bride and groom standing on top. He inspected it closely for a few moments, then extended a finger and swiped it through the icing. He lifted the finger to his face, sniffed it, and then put it in his mouth.

"It's real," he said. "Not bad."

"Uh...is it really a good idea to eat anything here?" John asked.

Henry shrugged. "If this place wanted to kill us, we'd be dead by now."

Eileen peered at the cake intently.

"There's writing in the icing," she said.

"What does it say?" John asked.

"Huh. Shepherd-Sunderland."

"That's impossible," John said. "It can't be."

"It is," she replied. "We're at _their_ wedding reception."

"That was over a decade ago..."

Then, a familiar sound became audible from a far corner of the room. A shuffling, scratching sound.

"...and we're not alone," Henry said.

All three crouched behind the table and readied their weapons. Eileen's hand sought Henry's, and he gave it a squeeze.

A door in that corner opened, and two figures slowly entered the room. The one in front was vaguely human, but was bent over like an ape. As it came closer, Eileen saw that it wore some sort of loose, dark garment over its body that hid its shape. It shuffled slowly along.

The figure in back was much wider at the bottom than at the top. It seemed to glide along the floor as it moved. As it approached, Eileen saw that its strange shape was due to a light-colored garment, like a dress, that almost completely covered its body. It was dirty, streaked in blood and dirt and something else...

It emitted a high-pitched, keening wail that stood Eileen's hair on end.

"Our bride and groom, maybe," Henry muttered.

"It couldn't really be them, could it?" Eileen asked.

Then, more figures emerged from the door, similar to the first two. They drifted toward them, groaning and keening.

"There's your answer," John said. "Can't be, if there are a bunch of them. Some bridal party."

As they watched, the monsters surrounded their table and moved inward toward them. Escape was impossible.

Henry gripped his axe tightly.

"Let's go," he said.

The three of them stood up from their hiding place, and swung with all their might at the macabre wedding party that approached them. The axe, shovel and bat cut through the rotting flesh, which exploded and splattered everywhere. Limbs smashed, heads crunched, and Eileen tried not to think about it.

It struck her that the creatures weren't putting up much of a fight. They weren't very fast or aggressive…they just meandered around, swatting at them on occasion. She didn't even need to sneak up on them or try to time her hits…she swung, they went down.

_Almost too easy._ But for now, too easy was just fine.

A few minutes later, they stood, breathless, over the shattered bodies. Henry poked at one of the ape-like figures with the business end of his axe.

"Reminds me of the ones we saw in the building," he said to Eileen. "Except for the clothes."

"Yeah," she said, squinting at one of the figures in dresses. The garment looked as though it might have once been a satiny, fluffy wide-skirted gown. "These sounded different, though."

"No sign of Mary or James," John said. He leaned on his bat, and surveyed the room thoughtfully. "It never occurred to me that..."

Eileen walked to the gift table off to the side. It was strangely empty for such a large wedding reception. Three identical boxes sat side by side in the middle of the large table. They were wrapped in gold paper, with little cards attached.

"Guys," she said. "I think these might be for us."

Henry and John joined her at the table.

John picked up the one in front of him, and opened the attached card. "This one's mine," he said.

The package sitting in front of Eileen had her name on it, as well, and Henry's was the third. They read the cards on the packages.

"_A reminder of things past,"_ John read.

"_A reminder of things present,"_ Henry read.

"_A reminder of things to be,"_ Eileen read. "Wonder how that works. Guess I'm about to find out."

The boxes opened easily.

"What the…" Henry said slowly.

John reached into his box. "I know...or, rather, I don't," he said. In his hand lay a small, sharp knife with a dark handle. The blade was stained with blood.

"Not much use as a weapon," he said. "Lots of knives look the same...but this one seems familiar, somehow." He wrapped it in its tissue paper and put it into a pocket.

Henry was staring absently off into the distance. A set of dog tags dangled from his hand. Their clinking echoed throughout the large room.

Eileen lifted one of the tags and read it.

"_Michael Townshend."_

"My father," Henry said tightly.

"He served?" John asked.

"Yes. Before I was born." Henry quickly tucked the tags into a pocket.

"What did you get, Eileen?" John asked.

"I know what they are," she said, "but I don't know why I got them..."

In Eileen's box lay two small blood-red notebooks. She flipped through them. The pages were all a creamy white, and unlined. "They're blank," she said. "Nothing in them at all."

Henry's eyes were wide as he stared at the notebooks, but he said nothing. Eileen was opening her mouth to ask him about them when a loud squishing sound and a thud from behind made them all jump.

They spun around. A large fleshy...something had fallen to the ground several feet behind them. No obvious head or hands or anything else were apparent, just a large blob of rotting flesh.

What was more interesting was the tiny gift-wrapped box on top of the mound. Eileen extended her shovel and pushed the box onto the floor. It opened, and a small metal object fell out.

Henry picked it up. "A key," he said. He turned over the tag. "It's blank."

"Guess we should see if it fits any locks around here," John said. "I don't see any in this room."

The door in the corner seemed to be the only one in the whole room, strangely. As they passed the cake on their way to it, Eileen saw the bride and groom on top shift, then topple...then she realized that the floor was shaking.

"Cover!" John yelled. She felt Henry's hand grab hers, and she was pulled under one of the tables before she could react. She found herself crouching under the table, with Henry covering her. The floor shook, and she could hear debris falling around her.

After several seconds, the shaking stopped. John lifted the edge of the tablecloth with his bat, and peered out from underneath. He motioned to them, and they crawled out from under the table.

It looked as though the plaster from the ceiling had all fallen at once. Pieces littered the floor, and dust was everywhere. The cake was in chunks on the floor, and the bride and groom lay shattered.

The hole through which they'd entered was now blocked by enormous piles of debris in front. It was completely inaccessible.

"Damn it," said Henry. Somewhere under the pile was his pack, crushed and useless. "Thank God I kept some stuff on me."

"The door's blocked, too," Eileen said, looking at the pile of debris in that corner.

"But we can get out over there," John said, pointing to where a piece of wall had fallen down. They picked their way through the rubble and passed through the hole in the wall.

* * *

The room beyond seemed to have once been a kitchen. A butcher-block table sat in the middle, and cabinets lined the walls. An enormous oven took up part of one wall, and a large refrigerator occupied a corner.

Eileen opened the oven slowly, then let out a sigh of relief. "Empty."

Henry pulled on the handle of the refrigerator. And pulled again, harder.

"Stuck?" John asked. Henry nodded. They both tried the door, but it didn't budge.

"Hang on, Henry. What's this?"

There was a small code pad under the door handle. They both scanned the room, but nothing that looked like a code was evident.

Eileen found a narrow door tucked next to a cabinet. She turned the knob, but the door was locked.

"Henry, throw me that key," she called, and after a moment it sailed toward her. She grabbed it out of the air and turned it in the lock. The door swung open.

All three of them crowded around the doorframe. The little room beyond looked like a pantry, but the shelves were empty.

Empty, except for...

"What's that?" Henry asked.

"You've lived by yourself for how long, and you don't recognize that?" Eileen asked, as her hand reached for the object.

"Really?" John asked.

Henry frowned. "No, I don't. What's the big deal?"

"This," Eileen said, "is a fruit pie. Cherry." She handed it to Henry, who turned it over in his hands, inspecting it. He ripped open the wax-paper wrapper, and red goo dripped out.

"Those things always get squashed," John said.

Henry took a very large bite. He chewed slowly, rolling the food around in his mouth. "Hmmm," he said, mouth full.

"Hungry?" Eileen asked.

"Not really," Henry mumbled, raising his hand to his mouth, "but this might be of use."

He spit something into his hand, and took it to the sink to rinse it off. Unfolding it revealed that it was a letter-size piece of paper, apparently blank on both sides.

Henry ran his fingertips over the surface. Then, he stuck his fingers into the remains of the pie, extracted a large dollop of the red goo, and smeared it onto the paper. He worked it in for a moment or so, then rinsed the paper in the sink. White letters appeared on the paper.

_Damn waitstaff keep eating all of the backup snackables. So, the boss has put in a new locking fridge. The code is 9526...don't give it out._

"How did you know?" Eileen asked.

"Had to do this before. At least this time, it's not blood."

"That's gotta help," John said, as he keyed in the code. A beep informed them that the door was open. He pulled the door open to find...

"Another hole," Eileen said.

* * *

At the end of the passage, they were deposited back onto the streets of Silent Hill. On the other side of the barrier, as far as they could tell, just feet from where they had entered the door.

Several blocks and a few more demons later, they crossed the northernmost street into a small, brick-lined area with benches. A sign stood at the far end of the space that said "Rosewater Park."

Statues and small grassy areas lined the walkway to the lake, which ended in a long walk along the lakeside. Further down, they found an abandoned hot dog stand and some coin-operated binoculars mounted along the walk.

Eileen leaned on the railing by the hot dog stand, staring into the fog.

"I bet it's beautiful here on a clear day," she said. "You could probably see the other side of the lake."

John nodded. "It was, when we were kids. I remember the old man that sold the hot dogs. He would give us extra relish if nobody was looking."

"Made a good chili dog, too," Henry added. "And eating it by the lake made it taste better."

"Your mom let you eat chili dogs?" John asked. Henry grinned.

"Yeah. With jalapenos."

They made their way out of the park, and back into town. Heading up the street, they came across a gas station with a car parked at one of the pumps. The smell of exhaust was fresh.

John put his hand on the car's hood, then pulled it away quickly. "This car was running a short time ago," he said. He opened the hood and peered inside.

"Is it drivable?" Henry asked.

"Not with this hole through the engine. It shouldn't have been able to start in the first place."

There was a round hole about an inch wide right through the top of the engine block.

"Why would anybody make a hole in an engine like that?" Eileen asked.

John shrugged. "Good question. I'd like to know _how_."

Across the street, they found a bowling alley. A cold pizza lay, half-eaten, on one of the tables.

A bowling ball rolled across the floor, and they froze. Then, something moved at the far end. They raised their weapons.

"Don't hurt me!"

A small figure scrambled out from one of the alleys and flattened itself against the wall.

John lowered his bat, and walked forward. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a policeman, see?" He reached for his badge and held it in front of him. "Nobody's going to hurt you."

The figure stayed still for a moment.

"Is that a real badge?"

John smiled. "Sure is. See, here's my name and picture in with it," he said, holding the badge out.

The figure walked into the light. It was a little girl with long blonde hair and a denim dress and striped shirt. The girl took the badge from the policeman, looked at it, turned it over in her hands, then gave it back to him.

"It looks real," she said. "I remember Ashfield. I grew up there."

John smiled. "What's your name?"

"Laura," said the little girl. "I'm eight."

"Well, Laura-who's-eight," John said, "my name's John."

She put out her hand, and he shook it. "Nice to meet you," she said.

"Now, Laura-who's-eight, I'd like to you meet my friends."

"Stop calling me that!" Laura said. "That's not my name!"

John raised his eyebrows at her, and she pouted. But she couldn't hold out for long, and she smiled back at him.

He took her hand and led her toward the other two. Her eyes narrowed.

"This is Eileen," John said, "and this is Henry. We're here looking for someone."

"So?"

Sheesh, Eileen thought. She knelt down. "Laura, can you do us a favor?"

Laura looked doubtful.

"Can we tell you what he looks like? So, if you see him, you can tell him we're looking for him?"

Laura shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"How about you, Laura?" Henry asked. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

"No. I was looking for someone, but she's gone," Laura said sadly.

"So, you know what it's like. We'd really appreciate your help."

"OK."

John spoke from one of the seats.

"Laura, we're looking for a man. About my height, but younger – like Henry's age – with blond hair. His name is James."

Laura looked stunned. Then, her face screwed up, and she screamed.

"James! I never want to see him again! He's a terrible man! It's all his fault! I'll never see Mary again!" She burst into tears and ran from the room. Henry ran after her, but came back a moment later.

"She's gone."

"So, she's seen him," Eileen said. "But what was all that about Mary?"

"Could she have known Mary somehow before they disappeared?" said Henry.

"That's impossible," John said. "The Sunderlands disappeared ten years ago. Laura said that she's only eight."

They left the bowling alley, and walked around to the back of the building. There was a tall gate leading to a back alley, but the door was rusted shut.

As John was pulling at the door, they heard a voice from the street outside. A wooden fence blocked their view, but the voice was familiar.

"Jim…Jim…where are you? Jim..."

"Frank! It's us! Frank, are you there?" Eileen yelled back over the fence.

They raced back to the front of the alley and back to the street, but Frank had disappeared. The street was quiet.

"Damn it!" Henry said. "He's going to get killed out there."

* * *

Further along the street, they came to a short alleyway, which led to a flight of steps and a neon sign. They ascended the steps, and opened the door.

It was a small, seedy strip joint. A few booths clustered against one wall, a bar took up the other, and at the back was a stage with a single pole. Beside the bar was a neon figure of a woman with the word "Paradise".

"Ugh," Eileen said.

"I've seen worse," said John. He bent down.

"There are fresh footprints in the dust. Two sets? Three? Different sizes, anyway. I can't tell how many for sure."

Henry stepped up onto the stage and looked around. He moved to the pole and looked at it intently. His fingers ran up and down the pole.

"Gonna dance for us?" Eileen smirked.

Henry frowned at her. "No. Just curious," he said.

Then, something moved behind him.

"Watch out!" Eileen yelled.

The something leaped at Henry and wrestled him to the ground. It was enormous. In the dim light, it seemed to have a feminine shape, but it was too dark to see well.

Henry struggled, but couldn't break free. The figure's head opened up, and split in half down the front. As Eileen watched in horror, it lowered its head onto Henry's and started to suck him in, dripping something viscous onto him as it worked.

She snapped out of her shock, and raised her gun. John jumped up to the stage and started beating on the thing as Eileen shot, carefully, trying to avoid hitting either man by accident. After a few long seconds, the thing weakened enough for Henry to kick it off of him. He pried its mouth open with his hands, pulled his head out, and stomped on it once.

The creature lay still. Now, they were able to see that it was and about seven feet tall, gray and covered in pus and sores. It had the shape of a buxom female, but its skin looked hard and leathery. It wore no clothing as far as they could tell. Long red hair flowed from its head, and long red nails grew like claws from its fingers and toes.

Henry looked away, reached behind the bar, and grabbed a towel. He rubbed it over his head as he came back around to look at the thing.

"Are you OK?" John asked.

"Yeah," Henry said. "It's one thing shooting them…it's another when they drool on you." He peered at it closely. "This is a new one…I've not seen anything like this before."

"I hope we don't see one again," Eileen said.

Henry's hair stood out from his head in slimy spikes. She dug behind the bar for a bottle of soda water, grabbed another towel, and gave it to Henry. He took it gratefully.

"Bend over," she said. She poured the rest of the bottle of soda water over his head as he scrubbed his fingers through his hair, then he dried himself with the towel.

"Thanks," he said, not meeting her eyes. She shrugged and put the empty bottle back behind the bar.

Something white and rectangular caught her eye.

"Hmmm," she said, lifting it up into the light. "It's a notebook…with notes." She flipped through the faded pages. "It's old and hard to read, but I can make out some of it."

…_Negative emotions, like fear, worry, or stress manifest into external energy with physical effects. Nightmares have, in some cases, been shown to tr…_

…_who is not bold enough to be stared at from across the abyss is not bold enough to stare at into it himself. The truth can only be learned by marchin…_

…_f you truly love her, then you must act. It all depends on how hard you fight for her. Whatever happens, don't give up. Always try just one more time. Ev…_

…_More than anything else, I fear the possibility of your going away, far away from me. But sometimes we have to tell the truth…_

"I wonder who left this here," she said.

"Maybe the bartender," John replied. "I knew a guy who would write down some of the weird things he heard coming out of his patrons after they'd had a few. He'd keep 'em for the humor value. But this doesn't sound like something that a drunk guy would say…"

Henry seemed lost in thought. After a moment, he held out his hand, and she gave him the little notebook. He tucked it carefully into a pocket.

"You already have a notebook," she said.

"This feels important, but I don't know why," he replied.

"Ready to go?" she asked him.

"Yeah."


	8. Chapter 8

Next to the club sat a large building, with steps in front of it. The sign above the door said "Brookhaven Hospital."

John stepped forward and picked up a nearly invisible object. It was a dark blond hair, about four inches long, coarse and fresh.

"This could be James'. He might have been here."

Henry tugged on the door. It opened readily.

"Henry, I don't like this," Eileen said. "There's something wrong about this place."

"There's something wrong with this whole town," he replied.

"No, more than that." She shivered. "I don't know how I know…I just do."

"I don't think we have a choice, Eileen," said John. "We haven't got any other leads."

* * *

The heavy door swung open, and they entered the hospital. The bang of the door as it closed again echoed down the hallways. 

A map lay discarded on the floor just inside the door. Eileen picked it up.

They went into the first room they found, which was labeled "Reception Office" on the map. It was quiet, but more footprints in the dust showed that they weren't the only visitors the room had seen recently.

The front halls of the hospital were musty and dirty. Mysterious stains covered the floors, and the walls looked as though they hadn't been cleaned in years.

Most of the doors on the floor were locked, except for the bathroom doors. In the bathrooms, the drains were bloody, and the water looked as it if had been sitting there for years.

"I don't know anything about hospital regulations," Eileen said, "but I'm guessing this is _way_ below code."

John smiled. "Highly unsanitary."

Henry opened another bathroom stall door. "Ugh..."

Eileen looked over his shoulder. The toilet was in terrible shape, and seemed to be blocked. The smell was overwhelming.

"There's something stuck in there," John said, looking over Henry's other shoulder.

"Yeah, there is," Henry said slowly.

They both stared at him. He sighed.

"Come on. Why me?"

John shrugged. "You're the expert around here."

"Not in plumbing…" Henry muttered.

"And I know you wouldn't make me do it," Eileen chimed in.

Henry rolled his eyes.

"In case anyone cares, I'd like to state that I'm doing this under protest."

"So noted," John said.

"And no, we don't," said Eileen.

Henry handed his jacket to Eileen, pushed past them, and grabbed a plunger from under one of the sinks. He positioned himself in front of the toilet, turned his face away, and pushed the plunger in. It hit the bottom with a splash.

"Back up," he said. They did. He put a foot against the bowl, steadied himself, and closed his eyes.

"Here goes."

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the plunger flew backward and took Henry with it, spraying smelly water as it traveled. He crashed into the other two, and all three fell to the floor.

They struggled back up as quickly as possible to get out of the muck.

"This...is...thoroughly...gross," Eileen said.

"Glad I'm not a plumber," John said.

They both looked at Henry, who was splattered with...

"I don't want to hear it," he grumbled, and reentered the stall.

The toilet had cleared, and in the bowl sat a large lumpy object in a bag. John fetched a broom that leaned against the wall and gave it to Henry.

"Good idea," Eileen said.

John shrugged. "Can't imagine anybody actually sticking his hand in there."

Henry used the handle to fish the object out, and dumped it in a sink. He turned on the water to rinse it off.

As the water ran, Henry turned on another tap and did his best to clean the muck off of himself. Eileen found some towels from a closet (clean, thank goodness) and handed them to him.

While Henry was washing, John turned off the first tap. In the sink, almost clean, was a plastic bag. He opened the bag carefully. Inside was an enormous keyring, clean and dry, with a note.

_I've got better things to do than bug people for keys all day just so I can do my job._

"Keys for the rooms, hopefully," Eileen said.

Henry turned off his tap and stood up, toweling himself off. He was damp, but cleaner, and the smell was almost gone.

"Somebody else can get the next one," he grumbled, rubbing his head. He threw the last towel into the sink and took back his jacket, and they left the bathroom.

* * *

The keys let them in to almost all of the rooms they found as they wandered the front halls of the hospital. The rooms held rusted beds, bloody sheets, and tables and cabinets in various stages of disrepair. Stained sheets draped the walls. 

They found little of interest. A few papers, medical supplies, the usual things you'd expect to find around a hospital...but no people, alive or otherwise.

One room was labeled "Doctor's Lounge". It seemed to be a small break room. A table took up most of its space, along with a sink and a small refrigerator.

"Food Only. Do Not Store Drugs!" Eileen read.

"Like that matters any more in this place," Henry grumbled.

They ended up at a large set of double doors by the stairwell that led to the patient rooms. Just as Henry was reaching for the handle, Eileen put her hand on his.

"Hear that?" she whispered. Through the narrow crack of the door, a hissing and shuffling sound floated. Whatever was on the other side, there was more than one.

Weapons came up, and the door opened.

They found themselves facing three nurses. Not really nurses…the stench of rotting whatever and the pus on their uniforms told them otherwise. Chin-length hair hung from their heads, and their nurses' uniforms were short and tight, like a Halloween costume.

One of the nurses turned to Henry, and lifted her head to him. As the curtain of hair fell back, Eileen saw that her face was perfectly smooth and featureless, like a white egg.

Henry's mouth opened in a silent scream as she advanced. He was frozen to the spot, staring at her, and did not move. Her hand moved up to touch his face, and she leaned over him.

At that moment a whisper came from him.

"_Mujina…_"

But he stayed stone-still.

Eileen raised her spade and brought it squarely down on the creature's head. It went through flesh and bone with a loud crack. Henry fell backwards and scrabbled to get away as the creature dropped to its knees, and John finished it off with his bat. The other two went down just as readily, and soon John and Eileen stood over their bleeding corpses.

Henry was huddled in the corner, shaking. Eileen went to him. He seemed unaware of her presence. His terrified eyes stared straight ahead, pupils dilated. She stroked his hair gently and whispered to him.

"Shhh…Henry, it's me…Henry…it's OK…"

What's wrong with him? Eileen wondered. After all he's been through…to be that frightened…this was different. He's never seemed afraid, never, and we've faced a lot worse. Something was very wrong.

After a few moments, his shaking slowed, and he stared at her as if surprised to see her.

"What happened?" he said.

"We killed it," Eileen said softly.

"Which one?"

"You don't remember?"

"Don't remember what?"

"Henry, one of them approached you," John said. "You didn't move. It was about to kill you."

Henry shook his head in bewilderment.

"Henry," Eileen said, "what's a mujina?"

"A mujina? Why?"

"You said 'mujina'. What's a mujina?"

Henry sat forward. He was silent for a moment. "That's a word I haven't heard in twenty years," he said. "A mujina is a creature from an old Japanese ghost story that Mom told me once. It looks like a regular person, but it has no face at all." He looked at them curiously. "Was I really saying that?"

Eileen nodded. "But just now…that's the most scared I've ever seen anybody. It's not like you."

Henry shook his head. He looked over at the nurse, who lay still. "She didn't have a face…I guess it kinda makes sense."

"Kinda," said John. He helped Henry to his feet.

* * *

They found the hallway and the rooms off of it deserted, except for the dangling corpses and wheelchairs and blood and gore that were starting to seem almost routine. 

The keys continued to work on the second and third floors. These were deserted, although Eileen got the definite feeling that they were being watched.

Deserted, that is, except for the nurse-monsters that shambled down the corridors and swung at them with their pieces of pipe. Henry seemed to have recovered, and fought as usual...but his eyes darted around more, and he said little.

One of the last rooms that they entered was on the third floor, labeled "Special Treatment Room" on the map.

"That doesn't sound good," John said as Henry unlocked the door.

They entered it to find a large hole in the roof. Afternoon light diluted by the fog filtered in through the hole and cast faint shadows in the debris. Four doors opened off of the back of the room.

John moved to the rightmost door. "I'll check this one," he said. The door opened easily, and he entered.

Henry opened the next door and went through. Eileen tried the third, but it was locked. She opened the fourth door, and entered the room.

Inside was something large and warm and breathing heavily. She backed up and fumbled in the dark for the door, but she couldn't find the knob. Whatever it was advanced on her, and pinned her to the wall. It was much larger than she was, and she couldn't reach her weaponry. She screamed.

"Eileen!" She heard Henry's voice, muffled by the door. He was pulling at the door, but it wasn't opening. "Eileen!"

The thing she couldn't see breathed its foul stench over her, and pulled at her jacket. Oh God, she thought, this is no mindless zombie…She raised her knee up as hard as she could. The thing grunted and released its hold for a moment. She pushed away and threw herself against the wall. The door opened, and she fell out into the light. Over her, she heard Henry and John shooting into the room, then after a moment or two, a loud thump as the thing fell to the floor.

Henry dropped to his knees, and pulled her into his arms. "My God, Eileen, are you OK?"

"Yeah, I think so," she said, but the look in Henry's eyes... "Henry, that thing…it was…"

"Shhh," he said, holding her tightly to him. "It's over now." He held her to him, her face in his neck, as she shook silently. "It's over now. It's dead."

John came out of the room. "Another monster," he said.

Eileen turned abruptly out of Henry's embrace. "That was not just another monster," she said vehemently. "It had a purpose."

"No, not just another monster. But definitely not human. Looks almost like a doctor. Not surprising, in a hospital."

"No, not surprising," she said. She straightened her shirt. It had a spot of something smelly on it from where the thing had grabbed her. "Let's get out of here."

They stood up, and turned to leave. The door opened, and all three gasped at what they saw.

The hallway was gone. In its place, the area in front of them was lit with an eerie gray light. Snow fell lightly from the…sky? It blanketed the earth before them, and wrapped them in a soft silence. The distant shadows of trees loomed darkly. Round, smooth stepping-stones led into the falling snow. Everything was white and gray.

They heard small footsteps running through the snow, then a fox streaked across the path in front of them. It was as white as the snow, and disappeared almost as soon as it had appeared.

Henry's face was grim.

"Stand back," he said quietly.

"What's going on, Henry?" John asked.

"I'm not sure," Henry replied. "I just hope I'm wrong…"

At that moment, they heard the crunch of snow in front of them. Someone was approaching.

"You should leave," Henry said.

"No," Eileen said.

"Never," said John.

"You must," Henry said. He was calm, but his voice held urgency. "You shouldn't be here."

"It's too late," Eileen said.

A snow-covered figure stood in front of Henry. It wore a large conical straw hat on its head, and seemed to be wrapped in some sort of straw outer-garment.

It was still for a long moment. Then, it reached up and removed its hat, and Henry was face to face with a tall young woman.

She's beautiful, Eileen thought. Her skin was as pale as the snow, and her long hair was fastened in a single tail behind her shoulders. Her expression and bearing were regal. The straw cloak covered almost all of her garments, but the neckline of her kimono was visible. Its white silk glowed in the gray light.

Shock crossed Henry's face, then disbelief, then a steeliness. His eyes narrowed.

Eileen looked more closely at the woman's face. It was oval, with a small mouth and very red lips. Her eyes blazed green against the white skin.

Green eyes…Henry's eyes.

"Henry."

Her voice was low and pleasant. "It has been a long time. You have grown up well."

Henry was silent.

"Will you not speak to me?"

"I know who you are."

"Do you?" the woman responded. "Do you think so?"

"You are not who you appear to be. She is gone."

"Gone many years, but not forgotten. Else, I would not be here now."

John started forward, but Eileen held him back.

The figure looked at Henry closely. Green eyes met green eyes. "I see that you do recognize me. You have not forgotten, then. Why are you here, Henry?"

"We are searching for a man and a woman," Henry said evenly. "They have been here for many years."

The woman nodded. "So I have seen," she said. "You have no need to return, yet you come back. You are a fool, like your father."

"I am _not_ my father."

"That remains to be proven."

Did the green eyes flicker her way for a minute? Eileen couldn't be sure.

A muscle in Henry's jaw twitched, but he said nothing.

"If you were here for yourself, I would kill you now for having known me," she said. "As it is, you and your companions shall live. What you do is noble, if foolish, and I cannot condemn that."

She nodded to John and Eileen.

"Your passage will be unimpeded while you remain here. I cannot protect you once you leave. And, if you ever tell anyone of seeing me here, you will not live the night."

She turned back to Henry.

"Now go."

Henry nodded. "Thank you - "

The figure held up a white hand.

"Do not speak my name in the presence of those who do not know it."

Henry bent his head. The woman did the same.

"Goodbye, Henry Townshend."

The figure slowly became hazy, then dissolved into a white mist. As Eileen looked on, the mist started to spread, then filled her vision with a blinding whiteness…

They found themselves still outside the Special Treatment Room. Henry had fallen to his knees, and his head hung low. Eileen rushed to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Henry…" she said, at a loss. "What…"

He covered her hand with his without looking up. His fingers were cold.

"Please, Eileen," he said softly. "Please...don't. What she said is true. We will be safe."

She nodded, and he got to his feet.

They looked around. Everything was as it had been before...

On the dark, muck-covered floor sat a doll and a note.

_My love is gone. She's all I ever wanted, but she didn't want me. I dreamed of her for so long. Or was I part of her dream? _

_It doesn't matter any more. She is gone forever. _

_So, my faithful audience, la commedia e finita. I bid you farewell._

_I leave you with this…seek, and ye shall find. But what you find may not be what you seek. I like to hide things outdoors. Don't you?_

_Stanley_

"Maybe there were mental patients here, too," John said.

"Or maybe, they weren't mental patients when they first got here," Henry said.

"Guys, there's a garden on the bottom floor," Eileen said, pointing at the map. "Maybe we should try there next."

"What the hell," John said. "We're here."

"And I've had enough of this place," Henry muttered.

They continued down the hallway. As they reached the end, Henry turned back one more time and stared at the spot where the woman had stood. His eyes held longing, and sadness.

* * *

The door to the garden was already open. It spread out before them, with patches of foliage interspersed with paths and small concrete sitting areas. Strangely enough, the plants and flowers were green and lush. The bright colors of the flowers stood out against the gray fog. The paths were covered in red brick, and a tall fountain played in the middle of the yard, its eight side spigots and one large top spigot providing a cascade of water that caught the diffuse light. 

"It's gorgeous," Eileen said. "You wouldn't expect to find something like this, not here."

"Where shall we start?" John asked.

Henry leaned casually against the fountain with one hand. It rotated under the pressure and moved sideways, and he fell backwards onto the ground. As the other two stared in surprise, he picked himself up, dusted off, and looked at the wooden trapdoor under his feet.

"This seems like a good spot," he said.

* * *

**If you want to know who Henry was supposed to think he saw...read "Starting Over" (hint, hint). If you want to know who Henry actually saw, and more about mujina, read some Lafcadio Hearn****. It's good stuff.**


	9. Chapter 9

It took all three of them to lift the heavy trapdoor. Underneath was a staircase leading to a locked door. None of the keys on the keyring would open it.

"Damn," Henry said. "Never thought I'd say it...but what I wouldn't give to crawl through a hole about now."

Eileen ran up the steps to the garden, to the fountain. She pulled something out of the top basin and hurried back down the stairs.

"This should do the trick," she said, and put the key in the lock. The door opened.

"How did you…" John asked.

Eileen shrugged. "If I were hiding the key to this door, that's where I'd hide it."

There were more stairs. A lot more stairs. Finally, a metal door, that unlocked with the same key. They went through the door to find…

Metal shelves surrounded them, containing hamburger buns, huge cans of condiments, and other such items. Dust lay over everything.

"Of all of the things…" Henry said.

"You've GOT to be kidding me," Eileen said.

John shook his head. "Who the hell needs a Happy Burger half a mile underground?"

They exited out the front of the restaurant into a long hallway. Rooms opened off of either side. Bulletin boards lined the hallways, and rows of lockers took up the remaining space.

"It's a school," Henry said. "An elementary school, or a junior high."

"There's something familiar about this place," John said, "but I can't put my finger on it."

They walked down the empty hallway, the sound of their footsteps echoing from the walls. Some of the lockers stood open, with books, pictures, and the usual things in them.

Little footsteps approached them, rapidly. They glanced around, but saw nothing. Then, a movement several feet away.

"Look!" Eileen cried.

A tiny shadow stood by a door. Its outline was indistinct, but it seemed to be child-shaped. As they watched, it stumbled and fell to the floor. It pulled itself up, clapped its hands together and melted through the wall.

Something glinted in one of the lockers. Eileen reached in to take it.

"Wow," she said, pulling out a large black submachine gun. "Let's hope that this doesn't actually belong to some kid here."

John's face grew stern. "Damn right. Someone here needs help."

The classrooms were unremarkable. Rows of child-sized desks filled the rooms, and blackboards, bulletin boards and storage shelves lined the walls. One room had a large map on one wall, with pushpins in various places. There was a music room, too, with a piano in its middle. The keyboard lid was locked.

Another room was obviously an art room, with large tables with mats. Lumps of gray clay sat on the mats, some shaped into bowls and cups, others into animals, as if just abandoned.

"Smelly little gray lumps…" Henry murmured.

"What?" Eileen asked.

Henry shook his head. "Nothing…just remembering something."

John touched a gray pot lightly. "Still wet."

"When I was a kid, I once took my clay and buried a shot glass in it," Eileen said. "I asked my teacher to let it dry naturally. Then, when it was dry, I pretended I was an archaeologist and dug out the shot glass."

"Cool," John said. "I think they sell kits for that these days."

"My father was mad. It was his favorite shot glass."

"Look at these pictures," Henry said. They surrounded the teacher's desk, on which were scattered childish paintings and drawings. One showed a huge lizard with its head split in two. Another was of a strange white-winged figure. Still another depicted an enormous moth.

"These are strange," John said. "Not what you'd expect a kid to draw."

They returned to the hallway.

One of the classroom doors opened, and Laura came out. She frowned at them.

"What are you doing here?"

"We could ask you the same question," Henry said to her.

"I'm looking for Grandpa Frank. Have you seen him?"

"Frank? Frank Sunderland?"

"Yeah, Frank," Laura said impatiently. "He's not really my grandpa, but he lets me call him that. He's nice to me. I can't find him anywhere."

"He was with you?"

"Of course. But he wandered away. He's trying to find James."

"Is he OK?" Eileen asked. "He hasn't gotten hurt, has he?"

"No, silly," Laura replied. "Why would he be hurt? Anyway," she continued. "I know what you want. I haven't seen James."

"Laura," John said, "how about a teenage girl? Shoulder-length dark hair? Looks like me?"

"No," Laura said. "Why? Are you looking for her too?"

"Sort of," John said. "She came here a while ago and I don't know where she is. She's my sister."

Laura nodded. "I haven't seen her. I'm sorry." She turned to go back into the room, then stopped. She faced John. "You're a nice man. I hope you find her."

"So do I," John said.

Laura went back into her room, and they continued down the hallway.

* * *

The door at the other end of the hallway led to more stairs, and another hallway. But this one was different. The floors were no longer linoleum, but rusted chain-link, and the walls were covered in blood.

In one of the classrooms, the desks were all pushed to the sides...all but one. That desk sat alone in the middle of the room, isolated. Graffiti covered its surface.

_Witch. Devil. Freak._

Henry picked up a piece of paper from the teacher's desk at the front of the room.

_I have become very concerned about Alessa. Every day, she seems to deteriorate further. She does her work well, but the other children don't talk to her. She has only one friend, a girl her own age, Claudia. The circles under her eyes are growing, and I see bruises on her arms. That damn cult. What are they doing to her?_

_Please, is there anything I can do? There's got to be something. We may not have much time._

_K. Gordon_

"Poor little girl," Eileen said. "I wonder if she was ever in that prison we saw."

"Look!" John cried. A figure had appeared, seated at the isolated desk. She was a young girl, about ten or eleven, with dark hair and eyes. She wore a light-colored top and dark pants and sat staring straight ahead.

John approached the figure. His hand shook as he reached toward it.

"Angie?"

The figure looked up at him, smiled, and disappeared.

"Angie...it was her," John said. "I know it. It looked just like her, just before our mother died."

Eileen put her hand on his shoulder. "Maybe it was the girl, Alessa..."

"No," John said firmly. "That was Angie. I'd recognize her anywhere." He looked at the desk for a moment, then turned away.

* * *

The hallway ended at an arched wooden door. Henry's hand reached for it, but John stopped him. He pulled out his revolver, and the others held their weapons tightly.

They needn't have worried. The room beyond was small and uninhabited, except for two very dead bodies hanging on either side of another large wooden door. The bodies were wrapped in white fabric, and stank horribly. The door had three dark rectangular indentations, and a small slit across its middle.

Henry reached for the doorknob, but he pulled back quickly.

"It's hot. Very hot." He pulled the cuff of his jacket over his hand and turned the knob quickly.

The door opened to a room of fire. The walls licked flame, and the floor seemed molten. They stood on a small wooden platform, while balls of flame swirled around them. The heat was unbearable.

"Can we get to the other side?" Eileen yelled over the roar of the flames.

John pointed at a small rope walkway that spanned the room. On the other side, barely visible through the shimmering air, was a door.

"Let's hope it's unlocked," Henry said, and they started across.

The little bridge swung and swayed as they picked their way along. Eileen knew the ropes might give out at any moment, and they kept as rapid a pace as caution would allow.

Henry stepped onto the platform first, then Eileen. John was two steps away when a voice echoed through the room.

"Johnny…"

John froze in mid-step. He turned around and scanned the room. Behind them, a tongue of flame flew up on one side of the bridge, but did not recede.

"Johnny..."

Its shape changed…it grew a head and arms…it shaped itself into the figure of a young woman.

As they watched, the figure's hair became dark, and features formed on its face.

"Johnny…"

John's face was frozen in shock. Then, his mouth opened.

"Angie!"

"Johnny…help me…"

"Angie…"

"…it's so hot in here…it's hell, Johnny…"

A long object formed in one of the figure's hands…a knife? A small, sharp knife. Where had Eileen seen that knife before?...

The hand flailed around, and she saw the blade flash as it fell. It sliced cleanly through the rope on the other end of the bridge, and the bridge began to fall.

Henry and Eileen each lunged for one of John's arms. They pulled him onto the platform just in time, and they saw the bridge catch fire and begin to burn upwards.

"We've got to get out of here," Henry said. "Let's go."

The figure still was flailing as they hurried out the door and closed it quickly. They leaned against the door, panting for breath. They were in a long hallway, and the air was cool and sweet.

"It was her," John said quietly. "She was in pain."

Eileen and Henry were silent.

At the end of the hallway was another hole. They crawled in almost gratefully.

* * *

This passage was shorter than the last, and they crawled for a few minutes before it ended. They dropped into another dark room, but this time the area stayed dark after their arrival. The sound of running water broke the silence.

"I don't like this," John said. "Feels like a setup."

"I know what you mean," Eileen replied. "Something's wrong."

"Hang on a minute," Henry said. Eileen heard him searching in his pockets, then after a moment his flashlight clicked on. The beam played around them, and John drew in his breath sharply.

The room they stood in was covered in blood and gore. The smell was overwhelming.

Water ran in a trough down the center of the room, and the floor sloped down to it from either side. Hooks hung from the ceiling. From those hooks were suspended...cuts of meat? Body parts?

Eileen's eye caught something that looked like a long, slender arm, and she turned away. But then, in front of her, lay a mutilated corpse. Human...female...naked but for one shoe. The abdomen was ripped open, and it no longer had a face. But the hand that hung blue and limp looked so much like her own...and the shoe was identical to those that she'd planned to wear to that party so long ago...

She was shaken to the core, and she felt her nerves stretch and nearly snap.

"There's a door over there," Henry said.

"Let's get out of here," Eileen said, and she followed the other two across the room, picking her way through the blobs of bloody whatever that littered the concrete floor.

The door was old and wooden. It was marked with the circular symbol that they'd seen earlier...and a lot of blood, as well.

As Henry's hand reached for the knob, Eileen craned her neck over John's shoulder to look. She couldn't stand being in this room for one more second. Then, something behind her brushed against her arm...

She turned and swung blindly, the spade flying up and down, blood and gore flying everywhere. She felt wet droplets hit her face, and she kept swinging. She heard someone calling her name far in the distance, and still she swung.

Finally, the clank of the spade hitting concrete instead of flesh reached her through her frenzy, and she slowed. She felt an arm around her waist, holding her tightly, and something grabbed the spade and slowed its movement. Finally, she could swing no more, and she sagged against Henry as John took the spade from her hands.

"What...wha..." she began. Her eyes opened, and Henry turned her head into his neck before she could see anything.

"Shhh..." he said. "It's OK...it's safe." She wriggled, but he held her firm. She felt his head turn, probably toward John...

"No," she said calmly. "Let me go, Henry." He complied.

On the floor lay a body, obviously dead. It was slim and female, like the one she'd seen before. Her spade had done its work well, and not much was left...but she saw enough of the face to wish she hadn't seen it at all. A large metal hook still pierced its shoulder, tied to a fragment of rope.

Henry's face was pale...he'd seen it too. John's jaw was firm as he bent over the body.

"There's something in its hand," he said, and gently pried the clenched fingers apart. Something gleamed, and he stood up and turned it over in his hands.

"Some sort of emblem," he said. He held it out toward them. It was cross-shaped, but its top was a loop. The bottom long leg of the emblem had scratches across its width.

"Life," Eileen said. "Oh God...she is giving us life. Why..."

The door creaked as it swung slowly open.

Beyond lay a large, domed room. The floor was metal bars, radiating out like bicycle spokes from a small circle of metal in the center; they. A faint light emanated from underneath, and illuminated the bars with a reddish glow. The top of the dome was too dark to see, but a rustling and slurping from above told them that they were not alone.

The door slammed closed behind them. Henry held up his flashlight and pointed it across the room, searching.

"There's the exit," he whispered, pointing to the other side. Eileen could see a rusty door with an oddly shaped dark patch in the middle, but it was too dark to make out the shape.

"Whatever's up there...we have to get across without letting it know we're here," John said. "Maybe if we go around the sides...they won't be able to see us as easily."

Henry bent to look at the bars that made up the floor. "There's something on them. Looks like blood. We'll have to move slowly, or we'll slip."

John reached for Eileen's hand and pressed the emblem into it. "Just in case," he said, "get to that door. Do whatever it takes. This has got to be important somehow."

She nodded.

John moved left, and Henry and Eileen moved right. They sidled along the edges of the room, pressed against the walls to avoid the light. The rustling above them continued, but Eileen still could not make out whatever was causing it.

"Are you OK?" Henry whispered.

"I'll be fine," she replied. In the faint light, she saw his head turn to her, and he smiled encouragement. She managed a weak smile.

Just then, something fell from the top of the dome, and landed almost at their feet. A hand. A female hand...followed by a swooshing sound.

Something was approaching!

They flattened themselves against the wall and held their breaths, weapons at the ready. Eileen could barely make out John's still figure across the room...it looked as though he'd heard it too.

The swooshing closed in on them. A dark figure approached, cutting through the stale air like a bird. It dropped near the floor, and hovered over the hand. Eileen smelled blood and rot and death. The figure reached out a long, shadowy arm, as black as the rest of it, and picked up the hand...then lifted it to its mouth.

As its mouth opened, it stopped suddenly...and the head turned to face them. Its eyes glowed green in the dark, and its mouth was stained with blood. The mouth opened to reveal broken, bloody teeth, and curved up in a smile.

That's it, Eileen thought, and she gripped her spade more tightly. As if on cue, she and Henry split and ran around the creature, as John sprinted across the slippery bars to join them. All three raised their weapons, and as the thing began to move upwards, they slammed their weapons into its body. It screamed, but did not stop moving...however, somehow it seemed more substantial.

"Did you see that?" she hissed.

"Yeah," John said. "Eileen, you get yourself over to that door. Henry and I will cover you. Get that door open, I don't care how."

They ran as fast as they could across the room, slipping and sliding as they went. Just as they approached the door, a black figure materialized before them, broken grin glowing in the dark. A low laugh chilled her to the bone.

Henry and Eileen swung as John turned to watch their backs. They rained blows down upon the creature, which screamed and writhed. With every blow, they saw it taking clearer shape...

It swung an arm out and slashed at Henry. He jumped back just in time, and the claw sliced through a pocket on his jacket. Eileen heard something clink as it fell from the pocket and hit the metal bars. Henry's hand grabbed for the object as he swung the axe with his other arm.

"Incoming!" John called. Their heads turned to see two other shadows floating toward them at a leisurely pace.

"I've got this one," Eileen called.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," she replied. Henry turned to the new arrivals, and the two men loaded their guns as the shadows approached.

Eileen turned back to the dark figure before her. It looked different...more substantial, yes, but more human. Male. She slammed the spade into it again, and it cried out in agony.

Now, it had dark hair. Clothes formed around its body, and it turned its face to the floor as it screamed. Blood flowed from its wounds, and it made no movement toward her. The sound of shooting from behind her drowned out any faint noises it might have made.

Eileen raised the spade overhead, and brought it down with all of her force onto the thing's back. It spasmed, curled upwards, and its head arched back.

The face that the creature turned to her was very familiar, but so different. The brow was lined, and the corners of the mouth were turned down as if from decades of frowning. But the planes of the face, though more aged, were as well known to her as her own, and she found herself staring into what might have been Henry's face had he lived thirty more years with hate and loathing and despair.

The familiar lips moved. The sound was nearly drowned out, but the word was clear. It came out as a growl.

"Eileen."

She hesitated just a moment as his hand lifted to her. But the hand was clenched in a fist, and it swung at her in a way that suggested it had done so for years.

_No..._

Eileen swallowed hard, stepped forward, and raised her foot. It came crashing down on that familiar body, and as her boot ripped through flesh and bone, she felt pain tear through her as it never had before.

The body shuddered once more, then the hand dropped and lay still.

Eileen stood panting for a moment, staring at the figure's shape. Behind her, two guns were still blazing.

"Go!" John screamed. "Eileen, get the door open!" Henry paused to reload, and she realized that they were using up precious ammo while she stood there.

That shook her out of her daze, and she dashed forward to the door. The hole's shape was familiar, and she slammed the emblem into it, then yanked on the handle.

The door did not budge.

She screamed in frustration, and hit it with her hand. She felt something other than wood, and saw...a second hole, strangely shaped, awaiting an object of similar shape. And a third…and a fourth. And a fifth.

Shit, she thought. We're stuck here.

"No luck!" she yelled. "There are four more holes. These things have to be holding whatever fits in them! Keep fighting!"

She hurried back over to them. By this time, they had brought the two creatures to the ground, and were hammering them with blows from their melee weapons. She lifted her battered spade and joined in.

The figures were mutating, changing, as the one before had done. Two male figures, one tall and lean, the other slightly shorter but much stockier. She recognized neither one.

Suddenly, the two men stopped swinging. She looked from one to the other. They were staring at the faces on the bodies on the ground, looks of shock on their faces.

"Come on," she cried, as she raised her spade yet again. God, she was tired... "We have to."

John stepped forward, eyes fixed on the face. It was a large, square, beefy face, with dark hair and a hard mouth. Dark eyes looked accusingly at John, and the mouth opened.

John closed his eyes, and his lips moved for a moment. Eileen heard a quiet "forgive me" before his heavy shoe came down on the thing's head.

She turned and brought her spade down on the beast in front of Henry. The body wore a dark woolen jacket and dark pants, and its short, thick hair was streaked with silver. As her spade connected with its midsection, it turned to her and emitted a low gurgle. Something familiar about that face...

Its eyes were a brilliant blue, and looked at her imploringly. It raised its arm over its head to protect itself, and she could only see its nose and mouth. Suddenly, she knew where she'd seen those before, and she knew who this man was.

"Henry," she said. "You have to..."

He lifted his foot. The eyes followed his motion, and the mouth opened one more time.

"Henry..." it said. The voice was low, yet commanding. "Stop it. Now."

Henry's mouth was a hard line as his boot came down.

The three stood still, catching their breaths and collecting themselves for a long minute. Henry was still holding whatever it was that had fallen from his pocket, and as he moved to put it away, Eileen's eye caught the glint of the dog tags.

John was the first to speak.

"What just happened?" he said.

"I don't know," Henry said.

"This place...it...how did they..." John fell silent.

The body in front of John shifted then, and they all jumped. Its arm slid off its chest, and its hand opened. Glinting in the palm was an object that none of them recognized. It was shaped like a T, with a snake and a pair of wings. Eileen grabbed it before it could fall through the bars of the floor.

Henry pried open the hands of the body in front of him, and found a six-cornered object in one. He tossed it to her, and she ran to the last body. Its hand held another item, red and oval. In its other hand was clutched a golden dagger. Funny, she hadn't noticed it there before...

She slammed all four into their holes on the door, and the sound of the lock clicking open was one of the sweetest things she'd ever heard.

"Let's go," she called. The two men turned slowly away from the bodies on the floor, and walked toward her.

John stepped over the third body first. As Henry moved past it, he looked down, and froze. His mouth dropped open. He gaped at the thing, then looked at Eileen, horrified.

She stared him straight in the eye, and shook her head wearily. Later...

* * *

On the other side of the door was yet more darkness. There was a breeze coming from somewhere directly in front of them, though.

Henry's flashlight came on.

"Another hole," John said. "Let's get out of here."


	10. Chapter 10

At the end of the long passage were yet more stairs. They stretched down into the darkness...

Five minutes later, they were still trudging along.

"We must be miles underneath by now," Eileen said.

"Under what?" John asked.

"We've been going north all this time," Henry said. "Somewhere under the lake, maybe."

Finally, the stairs ended at a pair of doors. The doors were marked with the same strange symbol they'd seen at the chapel. They opened easily.

The room they entered was of moderate size. Its walls were lined with books. Large bookshelves divided the room in two. A small table sat in a back corner, and a lamp provided the only illumination in the room.

"A library," John said.

Eileen approached one of the shelves. "These are some strange books," she said. "The titles...'Purification', 'Return of Lost Souls'..."

She removed a book, and blew the dust off of it. It fell open at a well-thumbed page.

_The Purification is a terrible ritual, only to be undertaken when necessitated by the emergence of a great evil. This evil can take many forms, and its recognition may be the most difficult part of the process._

_The creation of circumstances conducive to the birth of great evil is much simpler than the removal of that evil. The world in which it lives must be closed off, sealed against all future entry. This is not to be undertaken lightly, but is among the most arduous magics known to man._

_An unknown time ago, a world was created which was too powerful to be sealed off in this fashion. The creator's name could not be spoken or written, and is now lost to the mists of time. Through the Ritual of the Holy Assumption, he built a world. It exists in a space separate from the world of our Lord. More accurately, it is within, yet without the Lord's world. Unlike the world of our Lord, it is a world in extreme flux. Unexpected doors or walls, moving floors, odd creatures, a world only he can control. He who can perform the Holy Assumption can enter this world, but it will never bow completely to his will. He must walk there with caution, and beware that which he cannot control._

"I've read that before," Henry said. "It appeared in my room when everything started happening. That's Walter's world."

John stood motionless, a small red book in his hand. "Look at this," he said softly. "I dare not read it out loud."

_Speak._

_I am the Crimson One._

_The lies and the mist are not they but I._

_You all know that I am One._

_Yes, and the One is I._

_Believers hearken to me!_

_Twenty score men and seven thousand beasts._

_Heed my words and speaketh them to all, that they shall ever be obeyed even under the light of the proud and merciless sun._

_I shall bring down bitter vengeance upon thee and thou shalt suffer my eternal wrath._

_The beauty of the withering flower and the last struggles of the dying man, they are my blessings._

_Thou shalt ever call upon me and all that is me in the place that is silent._

_Oh, proud fragrance of life which flies towards the heart. Oh Cup which brims with the whitest of wine, it is in thee that all begins._

"The end of the world," Henry said.

An aged piece of paper slipped from the back of the book and fell to the floor. He picked it up and unfolded it.

"It's a map. A map of Silent Hill," he said. In the middle of the lake on the map, the strange symbol was drawn. Written below the map was:

_In the middle of the universe, where earth and water and heaven meet, lies the Womb of God. From this doth all derive, and to this shall all return. The taker must give, and the Giver doth take. Thus is the balance kept true._

"A secret place for the cult, maybe?" Eileen said.

"Possibly," said John.

He put the book back on the shelf, which shifted slightly. He pulled it out from the wall, and they peered behind.

Henry breathed a sigh of relief.

"If there's one thing I know how to do, it's crawl through holes," he said.

* * *

A minute's crawling deposited them in a small anteroom. Two enormous doors took up one end of the room.

"What is this place?" Eileen asked as they walked through the heavy wooden doors.

"It looks like a church or something," John said. They walked forward past the wooden pews, toward the altar. Light shining through the stained glass filled the room with color.

"Some church," Henry said. "Look at this."

The tome on the altar was aged, and seemed as though it would crumble at any moment. They gathered around it, and read the following.

_The First Sign_

_And God said,_

_At the time of fullness, cleanse the world with my rage._

_Gather forth the White Oil, the Black Cup and the Blood of the Ten Sinners._

_Prepare for the Ritual of the Holy Assumption._

_The Second Sign_

_And God said,_

_Offer the Blood of the Ten Sinners and the White Oil._

_Be then released from the bonds of the flesh, and gain the Power of Heaven._

_From the Darkness and Void, bring forth Gloom, and gird thyself with Despair for the Giver of Wisdom._

_The Third Sign_

_And God said,_

_Return to the Source through sin's Temptation._

_Under the Watchful eye of the demon, wander alone in the formless Chaos._

_Only then will the Four Atonements be in alignment._

_The Last Sign_

_And God said, separate from the flesh too, she who is the Mother Reborn and he who is the Receiver of Wisdom._

_If this be done, by the Mystery of the 21 Sacraments, the Mother shall be reborn and the Nation of Sin shall be redeemed._

"Remind you of anything?" Henry asked John.

"Walter's victims," John said. "Just like you told me."

"This must be the stuff that they filled his head with when he was little," Eileen said. "Remember all the reading he did?"

"No wonder all of this strange stuff has been happening," John said, turning the pages of the book. The old parchment crackled. "Look at this. They're creating parallel universes...messing with gods and angels...this is dangerous stuff, even by occult standards." Suddenly, his mouth dropped open, and he stared off into space.

"What? What is it?" Eileen asked.

John closed his mouth, and composed himself. "I get it now," he said. "Silent Hill wasn't always like this, you know."

He sat down on the cold floor. Henry and Eileen did the same.

"Remember the man I told you about? The one who lost his daughter, and came here looking for her?" Henry nodded.

"There have always been strange things happening in Silent Hill, but the fog didn't roll in like it does now until that time. It came in for the first time when the little girl -- Cheryl was her name, I think -- left Harry Mason's car and ran off into Silent Hill.

"A couple of years ago, I ran into an old woman here. She told me something that I didn't really know whether to believe until now. She told me that the girl's return to Silent Hill allowed the cult to complete a ritual to give birth to their great God. The ritual failed, but it allowed that evil power out into the world, and that was what started the strange happenings in the town. The fog rolled in for the first time that day, and it's been here, on and off, ever since. It actually snowed that day, too, out of season.

"They made all of this happen," he said, jabbing his finger up at the book on the altar. "This is all their fault. They took the power in this town and twisted it around so badly that nothing can ever fix it. That's what warped Walter Sullivan. That's what ate James and Mary Sunderland alive. That's what kept Harry Mason and his daughter on the run for all those years, and what finally killed him. That's what we're up against."

They sat for a few moments in silence. Then Eileen stood up and brushed herself off.

"Well, we're here, regardless. Let's get going."

Henry and John stood up, and the three exited the chapel through its side door.

* * *

The hallways of the church were strangely empty. It felt to Eileen as if they should have been full of crawling, biting, slurping whatever, just like the rest of the town, but the emptiness was somehow more ominous than the beasts had been.

The hallways were lined with rusty gratings, and the floors were stained tile. Pockets of heat lurked in corners, yet the wooden doors opened easily in their frames. The edges of the rooms were thickly black, as if the muck of ages had burned and charred the walls.

They came across a bedroom. The narrow bed was rumpled, as if its occupant had just left the room, and the desk held a single note.

_The end is near. I can feel it. I know now what I must do..._

_As that queen of old might have said...in his end is my beginning._

_And my end?_

_Yours, perhaps. If you're not careful. _

In one of the rooms at the end of a hallway, they found a pile of bodies, some in holes in the wall and some on gurneys. Not too fresh, but recent. None of them were identifiable. Henry bent down to look under the gurneys.

"Look at this."

In the wall behind the gurneys, there was a hole about three feet wide, barely visible just above the floor.

"If there's one thing I know how to do..."

"It's crawl through holes. We know," said Eileen and John.

Henry grimaced, and they pulled the gurneys away from the hole.

Eileen bent to look in. There was a light in the distance.

"It smells like...like water. Like the lake. Well, here goes."

* * *

After about five minutes of crawling, they came out of a wall into an enclosed garden. There was a large set of double doors next to the hole.

They passed through the double doors, into a large two-story room. A staircase ran up from one floor to the next in the middle of the room, and doors flanked the bottom of the staircase in the opposite wall. A small counter took up part of a side wall. In the middle stood a music box, playing a delicate tune. The room was decorated in shades of deep red.

Henry walked over to the counter, and looked at the piece of paper laying on it.

"He's been here," he said, holding up the note. "He left a videotape here, apparently, and the management left him this note to tell him they had it."

"Which room was he in?" Eileen asked.

"It doesn't say, but if we look in the guest book..." He went around to the back of the counter, and pulled out a thick book. He turned the heavy pages and scanned until he found the name.

"Here it is. James and Mary Sunderland. Room 312. Looks like the honeymoon suite was occupied, so they got that room instead."

They headed up the stairs to the second floor, then through the doors and up to the third floor. The stair gate was open, and the walls and ceilings there dripped water, as if the whole building was weeping.

Room 312 was unlocked. Inside, they found the room clean and tidy.

Henry opened a drawer in the bedside table. "Room service menu, Gideon bible, notepads," he said.

"Sounds pretty ordinary," John said.

Henry pulled a piece of heavy paper from the drawer. "Huh, this is unusual," he said.

On it was printed the following.

_Welcome to the Lakeview Hotel. We hope that you enjoy your stay. Room service and laundry service are available for your convenience. Please see the details in the related brochure._

_We encourage you to avail yourselves of the wonderful sightseeing and entertainment opportunities of this quiet little lakeside town. Please be advised, however, that should the lake fog become unusually heavy, it is recommended that you stay indoors until it lifts._

Below this was written, in a scrawling hand,

_No kidding. They say that when the fog comes in, if you go outside, you'll die. All the bad things that happen here…they only happen when the fog is out. Something comes into town and slices up anyone it can find. Innocent bystanders, tourists, men, women, even kids and dogs…when the fog burns off, the streets are soaked in blood. Don't go out!_

The three stood frozen. The piece of paper fell from Henry's hand and fluttered to the floor.

"No…it's not possible," Eileen said. She shook her head. "No..."

"They don't mean…" John was white as a sheet.

"They must," Henry said. "Those monsters…" He drew in his breath. "They're not monsters at all."

"Why do they look that way?" Eileen whispered. "And why do they attack us?"

"They may be defending themselves," Henry replied. "Maybe…maybe we look like monsters to _them_."

Eileen grasped Henry's arm. "Does that mean that, when we were wandering around that night, and today too, that we were…killing…people?"

Henry thought for a moment. "I don't know," he said. "I think the ghosts were really ghosts, and the double-headed babies might have been those two kids that he killed. But the dogs…and the apes…" He shuddered. "I don't know."

"That would explain a lot, though," said John. "The deaths, the sightings of demons…"

"What are we going to do?" Eileen said.

Henry's jaw was set firmly. "We avoid them if possible, stay nonaggressive."

"But if they attack us," said John, "then we defend ourselves."

The TV was showing static. Eileen went over to the VCR on the floor next to it.

"There's a tape," she said. She pushed the ejected tape back into the machine, rewound it, and pressed the Play button.

They crowded around the TV...and saw nothing on the tape.

"Damn," she said.

Suddenly, John stood up and rooted around in his pocket.

"It's buzzing," he said, pulling out the blue gem. Then, his head turned toward the window.

"What the...do you see that?"

A fleet of round white objects was flying toward them. They approached the building, but did not slow down. Instead, they flew over the roof and out of sight.

The three of them tore out of the room, ran down two flights of stairs, and came out on the main floor of the hotel. They pulled the front doors open and shot out toward the lake.

The objects were flying out over the water, toward a shadow on the horizon. The rest of the lake was covered with fog, but the area in front of the shadow was clear. The things hovered for several seconds, then disappeared.

"What is that?" Eileen asked, pointing at the shadow.

Henry got out his map. "There's an island over in that direction," he said. "It's a long way off."

"An island...didn't the writings say something about a secret place? In the water, where heaven and earth come together?" John asked. "Maybe that's where James went with Mary."

"How can we get there?" Henry said, as they walked further along the path outside the hotel. "We can't swim that far..."

He stopped as they spied a fishing boat with a cabin at the end of the pier.

"This smells bad," John said, "and it's not just the fish."

Nevertheless, they entered the boat, and soon were motoring across the smooth water.


	11. Chapter 11

As John took the captain's chair, Henry joined Eileen at the aft railing. They stood looking out over the fog-shrouded lake as the hotel faded into the distance and the fog closed around the little boat. Soon, they could see nothing but fog...even the water beneath them was barely visible. The only noise was the noise of the boat engines.

"Now I see what the map meant. It is like being caught between heaven and earth," Eileen said.

"Heaven and hell."

They stood side by side, just the two of them in the fog.

"Henry, I..."

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure what we're going to find at that island," she said, watching the spray from the boat's engines, "but I have this feeling that it's going to be the end of all of this, one way or another."

Henry nodded. "Same here. It's a relief."

"Yeah."

"Eileen, I want you to know that whatever happens..."

Eileen put her arms around Henry. "Sssh. I know. We can't think like that."

"No," Henry said, and pulled away. He took her hands in his. They were warm in the cool lake air. "This is important, too important." He took a deep breath. "I'm not very good at this."

She smiled up at him.

"I want you to know...how important you are to me, and how great this past month has been. I'm sorry that I can't be what you need..."

Eileen bit her lip to keep from interrupting.

"...but if you'll let me try, I'll do everything I can for you."

She smiled up at him.

"I have no complaints, Henry, except that you don't give yourself enough credit."

Just then, John cried out, "Island ho!" Henry squeezed Eileen's hands, and they went forward to look.

The island loomed in front of them. It was covered with trees, and they couldn't tell how far it extended. A small dock appeared, and as they neared it, they saw a little rowboat tied to it, rocking with the waves.

"Someone's here," Eileen said.

Henry jumped onto the dock, and tied up the rope that John threw to him. As they walked down the dock, he bent down and peered into the rowboat.

"It hasn't been here long," he said. "There are no dead leaves, nothing."

They proceeded up a little path, which wound around and around the island. It seemed that the island was shaped all as one very tall hill, and the path spiraled around. For a long, long time, they hiked, gradually moving higher and higher on the hill...and gradually becoming tenser and tenser as they neared the top.

Then, the path ended at a clearing. It was a large, round area, surrounded by tall pine trees that grew regularly around it like sentinels. In the center was a large emblem, and at the other end was a small rustic building.

John moved toward the center of the clearing, and looked down at the symbol. It was several feet across, round, with three circles around the middle.

"This is definitely not good," he said.

Just then, they heard a noise in the building.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" a voice called from within.

"I'm Detective John Orosco, of the Ashfield Police Department. We're not here to harm you."

"...Orosco?"

"John Orosco."

A tall man came out of the door, with a rifle in his hands. He wore a green military jacket and jeans, and his blond hair fell across his forehead. He seemed young, but his face was careworn, and his eyes held suspicion.

John's hand had been in his coat pocket, but he lifted both arms up, hands empty, as he walked slowly forward.

The gun went down. The blond man let out his breath, and looked at John intently for a moment. "That's why you look familiar. You're here about your sister."

"Yes!"

"I'm sorry," the man said. "I thought you were here to..." He walked forward and held out his hand. "I'm James Sunderland."

John nodded. "This is Henry Townshend, and I think you know Eileen Galvin," he said. James looked fit and healthy, but...that must be the haunted look that Frank was talking about, Eileen thought. He looked pale, preoccupied, as if something was eating away at him.

"Leenie? Is that you?" James peered at her closely. Eileen blushed slightly at his old nickname for her.

"Yep, James, it's really me."

James took her by the shoulders and looked her up and down. "Little Leenie. It's been a long time…you've grown up." He grinned, and some of the strain fell from his face. He looked almost like the James she remembered.

"And you look just the same," she said.

His grin faltered just a little. "Yeah."

James put his arm around her shoulders. "Eileen and I go back a long way. I remember her when she was little…last time I saw her, she was just a scrawny kid."

Eileen stuck an elbow into his ribs, and James laughed. "And you were always the same," she said. "Cocky as ever."

Henry stepped across Eileen and extended his hand stiffly to James. They shook.

"James."

"Henry."

Henry's jaw was set. James looked faintly amused.

"I understand why you're here, John," he said. "But why are you two here?"

"Do you mind if we go inside?" Eileen asked. "It's kinda chilly out here."

James hesitated. "Uh...well, the place is really a mess..."

There was a noise in the trees. They froze, and all four raised their guns. They exchanged a few self-conscious glances.

Out of the trees came a tall white-haired figure, barreling toward the group as if shot out of a cannon. On his heels was a little blond-haired girl.

James hesitated for a moment, and peered at them closely. Then, he dropped his gun, and ran toward the tall man. They embraced, and Eileen saw the resemblance between Frank and his son for the first time in years.

"Dad!" James' voice broke over the word.

"My boy...my boy..." Frank sobbed.

Laura was standing several feet away, glaring at them. Eileen went over to her and bent down to her.

"Something wrong, Laura?"

"He hurt Mary. I hoped that he was dead."

"Were you really hoping that?"

Laura looked sheepish. "No, not really. But I wanted him to hurt like I did."

"Look at him. What do you see?"

Laura put her head on one side, and looked closely for a moment or two. "I think he's been hurting. A lot."

"I think you're right," Eileen said.

At that moment, James pushed his father back. Both men's eyes were red. "Dad..." he said. "I...I can't."

"You can't what, Jim? What is it?" Frank sounded panicked.

James turned away. "Dad...I'm so ashamed."

"Why, my boy? What do you have to be ashamed about? You took such good care of her..."

A look of pain crossed James' face. "Yeah," he said ruefully. "I took _really_ good care of her." He held his father at arm's length.

"Dad, I killed her. I killed my Mary."

Everyone was still. Then Frank spoke gently. He removed James' hands from his shoulders.

"Jim...my boy...you've been under a lot of strain. You've been here for years by yourself..."

James shook his head vigorously. "No, Dad, it's true. That's why I left. I ran away." He lowered his head, took a deep breath, and looked his father straight in the eye.

"You remember, what it took out of her…how long she..."

The pain was still very fresh for him. It was written all over his face.

"It was killing me, too. I couldn't see her in such pain. I didn't know what to do, didn't know how I could let her suffer like that, didn't know what I was going to do. I took her pillow and..."

Frank said nothing, but his eyes were very wide.

"After, I put her in the car and drove here, to Silent Hill. By the time I got here, I'd forgotten everything, everything that I'd done. I thought that she'd been dead for three years, and that she'd called me here. I wandered around for hours through the monsters and everything until I found out what had really happened. The town tormented me, made me pay for what I'd done over and over and over, and it was never enough. I killed her, Dad, and I'll never be done paying for it."

Frank looked stunned. Henry and John glanced at each other, unable to believe what they'd just heard. Eileen was frozen.

"It's true. He killed her. He took her away from me!"

Laura ran over to James and started kicking him in the shins. James made no move to stop her; he stood with his head down, not looking at anyone. Frank bent down to her, but she pushed him away and kept kicking.

"He never loved her! He never came to see her! Then she went away, and he killed her!"

Tears rolled down James' face. He bent down to Laura, and grasped her fists in his hands to stop her flailing.

"Laura...please…"

"You evil man! I hate you! I wish you were dead!"

"Sometimes, I wish that too," James said quietly.

Laura stopped thrashing, confused.

He sighed, and looked her in the eye. "I don't want to do this, but I don't know any other way, Laura." He stood up slowly. "Please, come inside."

He took Laura's hand, and they followed him to the house. Eileen's hand sought Henry's, and he squeezed it reassuringly.

The front of the house was much larger on the inside than it looked from the outside. It was clean and tidy. A set of chairs and a sofa surrounded a fireplace on the right side, in which a small fire crackled. On the left was a spacious kitchen, with an ancient large wooden table in its middle. A hallway led down the center of the house, to additional rooms in the back. Eileen saw a shotgun leaning against the wall inside the door, along with a long piece of steel pipe, a chainsaw, and a few other weaponlike objects.

James put his rifle down on the kitchen table. He turned to the hallway.

"We have company," he called.

Down the hall came a slim woman in a skirt and sweater. Her brown hair was fastened in a bun at the back of her head, and she was drying her hands on a towel.

Frank gave a strangled gasp. Laura streaked forward down the hallway.

"Mary! Mary! You're here! You're here!"

The woman smiled, and embraced the girl wrapped around her knees.

"Laura, I didn't think I'd ever see you again," she said, bending down and kissing the girl on the head. She stood up. "Frank, it's good to see you."

Frank closed his mouth and recovered his voice. "Mary..."

James moved to stand beside his wife. He put his arm around her shoulders. "I guess we have some explaining to do," he said.


	12. Chapter 12

Two hours later, the group was seated around the fire, warming themselves and listening to James' tale of his trip through Silent Hill.

Mary and Laura were the only two people absent from the group. Laura had been full of questions, and it seemed best that she didn't hear the answers that James was giving to the adults. So, Mary had taken the little girl to a back room for a nice long talk, but not before passing out cups of hot tea to everyone.

Eileen picked hers up and peered suspiciously at the contents.

Mary smiled. "It's OK. Just Earl Grey."

Eileen smiled.

"I'm sorry. I'm just not sure of some things right now," she said.

"Understandable," Mary said.

John had initially been ecstatic to hear news of his sister, but as James' story progressed, and he learned of Angela's despair and guilt, he had grown grimmer and quieter. When James told them about the room in the labyrinth in which he'd found Angela and the strange monster, and what she'd said to him after the beast was dead, tears had run freely down John's face. And, when James described Angela's last walk up the fiery stairs, John had cried openly, and Eileen had comforted him.

She and Henry sat side by side throughout, warming their hands on the cups of tea and listening to a tale that seemed even more incredible than their own. They had been merely unwilling participants in another man's plans…here was a man whose trip through hell had been ultimately of his own making, and whose self-created prison had lasted not for days, but for years. Eileen couldn't fathom how anyone could have survived that…but here he was, telling them all about it.

Almost all. Her gut told her that there were some things that he was leaving out, but she couldn't figure out what or why. Then again, there were some things that had happened to her that she wouldn't want to discuss with anyone…anyone except Henry.

"You actually performed the Crimson Ceremony?" John was asking.

"Yes," James said. "I'd found the pieces I needed around town as I went. Finally, in the library at the hotel, I found the book itself, and it told me everything I needed to know. So I brought her to this island, and..."

John leaned forward. "How did you do it? How does it work?"

James shook his head. "Damned if I remember," he said. "It was all in the book. I don't have it any more. When I finished, the book and all the implements disappeared. I don't know where they went."

Henry gazed deep into his cup. "These objects...what did they look like?"

James thought for a moment. "There was a black stone goblet...and a vial of milky white fluid...and I remember a bowl, too."

Henry nodded. "I found those in my back room, when I broke down the wall. Walter Sullivan used them to bring himself back. And a red book, right?"

"Yes."

"Where are they now?" John asked.

Henry shrugged. "I don't know. They were gone when I got back from the hospital. Sounds like they go where they're needed."

"Wait," James said. "Walter Sullivan...I know that name. Didn't he kill a couple of kids a while back?"

"A long time ago," John said.

"Jim, it's been years," Frank said.

James nodded. "I've counted the days. Every day here is the same. I had to write them down as they went to keep track." He turned to Henry.

"This Walter Sullivan...you said he brought himself back to life?"

"It's a very long story," Henry said.

"Well, I've just spent a couple of hours telling you mine," James said, as Mary sat down next to him.

"It's OK," she said. "Laura's taking a nap in the back room. She's fast asleep."

She smiled at him, and slipped her hand into his; James squeezed it absentmindedly and smiled at Henry. "Now, you can fill us in on what's been going on out there."

* * *

It was dark out by the time Henry and Eileen finished their story.

"That damn cult," James said. "They've caused all of this pain."

"But they brought me back to you," Mary said. James smiled at her.

"And it was all worth it, my love," he replied, with a smile. Eileen thought she detected a weariness in the routine exchange. She stood up.

"I'm going out for some air," she said, stretching.

"I'll come with you," Henry said.

"Sounds good," said James. Frank looked at him with surprise, but didn't say anything.

They walked to the far end of the clearing. James leaned against a tree. The three of them stood in silence in the cool, crisp air, staring up at the stars. The breeze rustled through the trees.

James had told them about Eddie, too. What Eddie had said to him just before he died stuck in Eileen's mind.

"You and me are the same. We're not like other people..."

James hadn't known what that meant then, not until much later. But Eileen still turned the words over in her head.

We're not like other people either, she thought. This place...it scars you...it changes you.

After a few minutes, Eileen asked, "James, do you mind if I ask you something?"

"I never have."

Eileen turned to James, who was smiling at her tiredly.

"There's something else, isn't there? Something you didn't mention in there."

James smiled at her. "You're right, there is. Should have known you'd see that. You were always a sharp kid."

He took a long breath.

"No rush," Henry said. "We've both been doing a lot of talking. You have plenty of time."

"Time is the problem," James said. "That's just it...I have all the time in the world." He looked up at the stars for a minute. "I didn't say anything in there because of my father. But I can tell you.

"There's a price for the Ceremony...a very heavy one. Once I performed it and brought Mary back, it locked the two of us here. Neither of us can leave, or we both will die. Here, we will live forever."

Eileen rested her hand on his shoulder. James smiled at her.

"It's OK, Leenie. I was glad to make the deal, to trade my freedom for a life here with Mary. It was the only way." He breathed deeply. "In those last few weeks, I realized that I couldn't live without her. I had nothing but her. And when she was dead, there was nothing binding me to my old life. I got the chance, and I took it."

"But it's been eating away at you," Eileen said softly. "I can tell. It's killing you."

"Sometimes, I resent her for it," he said quietly. "She's so happy here. She has all she wants. But I...sometimes I look at her and I hate her. I hate her for being so perfect, so...fulfilled." His reluctance to speak was slowly slipping. "All there is is this house, this island, day after day, year after year. She never says anything."

"Complacency," said Henry. James nodded.

"Every day is the same here. Food appears in the fridge, the laundry is clean, the books are all in neat rows on the shelves. This jacket," he said, fingering the edge of his military jacket, "still looks like it did when I got here. It should have been rags a long time ago. I look the same, too. Never need a haircut or a shave. If I cut myself, it's healed the next day. Nothing ever changes. One day, I got angry and threw all of the books in the front room on the floor, just to see what would happen. The next morning, they were all back on the shelves like before.

"Mary never says anything about it. Nothing at all. She's never even mentioned the Ceremony, any of it. It's like it never happened, like our life before never happened, like nothing ever happened."

The clearing was quiet for a few moments.

"That's no life," Henry said flatly. "It's a living death."

"It's Purgatory," Eileen added.

"It's all I've got," James said.

They heard a commotion inside the house. Frank came running out, straight toward them. They could see Mary's form silhouetted in the doorframe for a moment before she turned away.

Frank was breathless by the time he reached them. "Jim...Mary just asked Laura to stay with you and her. Here. She said something about not ever leaving this place. Jim, what's going on?"

James sighed. "I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't know how to tell you. We can't leave, ever. It was the tradeoff for bringing Mary back."

"Jim...oh, my boy." Frank stood in shock, shaking his head. "You're going to hate me for this, but...you can't go on like this."

"I know, Dad," James replied sadly. "But it's the deal I've made, and I've got to live with it. Anyway, even if I could leave, what's left for me out there?"

"Me, for one. For what that's worth, your old man is still alive."

"I'm sorry," James said. "I didn't mean..."

"I know," Frank said. "It's OK."

The little group was silent.

"Laura said she didn't want to stay here forever anyway," Frank said after a moment.

James laughed. "She was always difficult."

"Jim, it's killing you."

"If I leave, I'll die anyway," James said. "I might as well stay here with Mary. I owe her that."

"No. You don't."

All eyes turned to Henry, who was standing there looking as angry as Eileen had ever seen him.

"You don't owe her a thing. Yes, you may have killed her. But you gave up everything to bring her back, and went through hell to do it. You, Eileen, and I are the only ones who know just what it took to get through that. And you've lived that hell for years now, and are ready to live it forever for her. I think I can say that you don't owe her a damn thing."

"I agree. I know what it is to owe your life to someone," Eileen said. "There is no way to repay that, short of giving yours up for that person. That's exactly what you've done. I know that I'd do it in a heartbeat if I had to. But I wouldn't be facing the living death that you're enduring now. It's enough, more than enough."

Tears were running down James' face now. "You don't know," he said wearily. "You don't know what it is to lose the person who means the most to you in the world...and then to find out that it was your own doing. It's...beyond the worst. It's losing everything. It's losing yourself."

"I know what it is," Frank said quietly.

"Jim...this young lady and gentleman are here in the first place because I failed them. I failed you, I failed them, and I failed myself because I didn't have the guts to do anything about it. I've lost my building, and my son and daughter-in-law, and I've caused irreparable damage to these two young people. The only good thing I ever did was rescue little Walter, and look what came of it. Nineteen people died. I don't know how I could have let it go on. I'm not the person I thought I was.

"That's why I brought these people to help me find you. You're all I have left...and now, you're as good as gone too."

He turned and walked slowly back to the house. James' eyes followed him, and his face was twisted with pain. Henry and Eileen stood silently by.

The stars turned overhead.


	13. Chapter 13

James took a long, shuddering breath.

"It's getting cold out. We should go inside."

Back inside...to face Mary and Frank and Laura...

"Nah," Henry said. "Not yet."

"No, not yet," Eileen added.

James smiled at them with relief.

"You know...there's some good beer in the fridge," he said after a moment. "You wouldn't think that whoever runs this damn place would know a decent beer from a health drink, but I'm thankful for small miracles. And I keep a little hut around the back, for when I just have to get the hell out of the house." He smiled with genuine gladness. "At least I was able to make some changes to the place."

They followed him around to the back of the house. There was a clearing, about the same size as the one in front. A little conical hut stood in the middle.

James turned back to the house. The lights were dark. "Mary's given everyone rooms and gone to bed," he said. "Make yourselves at home. I'll be right back."

Henry and Eileen bent to enter the little hut. There was a stone-circled fireplace in the middle, and a fire hole at the apex of the roof. Rough mats rested on the floor, along with a small table and chair, and a cot.

"Not bad," Henry said. "It's like being in a tent out on my mom's lawn when I was a kid."

"Yeah," Eileen said. "I like this. It's cozy." She sat down on the floor.

Henry sat next to her. "What you said out there...about owing me..."

"I'd do it, you know."

"I know, Eileen," he said, leaning forward to light the fire with his pocket lighter. The flames roared to life, on cue. "I don't want you to do that."

"Well, I'd rather not have to," she smiled, "but I would."

"Don't," Henry said. "I don't know what I'd do if that happened."

"I don't plan on having to," Eileen said. "So keep yourself safe, and it's all moot." She grinned.

Henry nodded.

"That's good enough."

James returned with a couple of six-packs of beer. He sat down by the fire and popped open three bottles. They each took one.

"I'd like to propose a toast," he said. "To survival."

"To survival," the three said, and they clinked bottles and drank.

"Good," Eileen said.

"Damn good," Henry agreed.

"Small miracles," James said. He put his beer down on the ground.

"So, tell me about _your_ monsters," he said with a grin.

"We had monsters and ghosts," Eileen said.

"Ghosts?" James asked. "I don't think I had any of those...but I had Maria."

"Maria...you mentioned her before, in the house."

"Maria..." James picked up his bottle and stared at the beer inside, swirling it around, fascinated by its movement. "I didn't want to say too much about her in front of Mary and Dad. Maria was … my temptation, my torment, my torture. She looked just like Mary, but much...uh..."

"More attractive?" Eileen volunteered.

"Yeah, more attractive. Don't get me wrong...I love my Mary. You've seen how much. But Maria...she fired my blood in ways that Mary never did. You should have seen her," he said, taking a long drink from his bottle.

"I think she was a stripper at the nightclub in town once. She had keys to the place. She kept one in her boot, one under her skirt, and one in her...top. She did everything to keep my attention. I suppose she had me by the ego.

"After she had me hooked, she died. Over and over. Pyramid Head kept killing her... I saw him do it twice, and once I didn't see it, but I think it was him. She kept teasing me with Mary's memories, pretending to be Mary one minute and Maria the next. But that was what she was supposed to do, I guess. It worked. I felt like dying every time she died. When they killed her in the hotel right in front of me, she screamed my name, and I understood then why I was there, why she was there.

"At the end, I saw Mary on the roof of the hotel. But it wasn't Mary...it was Maria. She taunted me, told me I'd never see Mary again...she drove that knife into my heart and twisted it. Then, she turned into a monster and attacked me. I had to kill her again...at the end she was lying there, crying 'James...James...James'...I died again, killing her.

"And so I brought Mary here, and now here I am, and here we are. You know the rest."

James drained his beer.

"The rest of them taunted me. Some of the monsters were long, female legs. I saw Pyramid Head doing things to them a couple of times. There was the squared thing that I told you about, that attacked Angela. Some hung from the ceiling and strangled me. Other hung under grates and tried to impale my feet. Others looked like people in straitjackets. Then there were the nurses in the hospital. You've seen them?"

"Yeah," Henry said. He drank from his bottle, which was close to empty. "Short skirts, long legs, nasty weaponry."

James laughed harshly. "Would have been kinda nice to look at, I guess, if you forget about the whole undead thing."

"Yeah, I guess," Henry said. "I wasn't really thinking about it at the time, but you're right. Sorry," he said to Eileen.

"We had to go through a hospital ward somewhere, too," Eileen said. "But we didn't see any nurses. Just a lot of wheelchairs, huge flying bugs, and some weird tall things like Amazons." She started laughing. "Wanna hear something stupid? When you hit them, they burped."

"They did what?" James said, opening another round of bottles.

Eileen looked at hers; she'd almost finished her beer, too, without realizing it. So had Henry.

"Burped," she said, as James handed her a fresh beer. "It would have been really silly if we'd been in any mood to laugh."

"Seriously? Leenie, you're messing with me."

"I kid you not." Eileen thumped Henry on the back, and he let out an enormous belch. "Like that."

They all laughed. Look at us, thought Eileen. Three survivors of Hell, who've killed more ungodly monsters than anyone can count and waded through more horror and gore than anyone has any need to, sitting the back of a wooden hut on an accursed island in the middle of a lake, getting fuzzy on beer and laughing about past nightmares. Now I have officially seen everything.

Funny to see these two guys like this. James was always an outgoing type, but Henry...I'd never have thought he'd be this at ease around other people. James isn't really "other people", though…he's one of us. At least they're getting along.

"What about these ghosts you mentioned earlier?" James asked.

"Unkillable. And migraine-inducing," Henry replied, and he downed more beer.

"Ugh."

"Yeah. They were a pain. I found...well, Joseph found these weird swords that would keep them down, but there were only five...nowhere near enough."

"How inconsiderate of Walter," James said.

"No kidding," Henry replied. "Some of the ghosts were people I'd seen die, too. Walter's victims, all of them."

"I'm sorry, man," James said.

"There were these demon dogs, too," Eileen added.

"I didn't have those, but I did have huge roaches," James replied. "Pain in the butt."

"And these two-headed things that walked on their hands. Heads were little kids' heads. They'd swipe at you, and knock your feet out from under you. They were _fast_, faster than we were."

"Faster than you, anyway," Henry said.

"And you, too," she returned. "At least I was limping in heels."

"Ouch," James said, "She got you there, Henry."

"They were about so high," she said, and stood up to demonstrate. As soon as she did so, she sat back down again.

"Wobbly, are we?" Henry asked.

"Speak for yourself," Eileen said. "I don't see either of you standing up. James, give me another. I'm almost out."

"Damn, woman," James said, doing as she asked. "You can put those away."

"Good beer, lots of it, and I don't have to pay for it," Eileen replied. "When you're a girl in college, you have to learn to hold your beer. Survival skills. Of a different type, gentlemen, than those used in saving the world."

Eileen got to her feet again.

"And on that note, I'm going to step outside for a little bit," she said. "James, is it…"

"Yeah, it's safe out there. There's nothing on this island to hurt you except boredom."

Eileen made her way to a tree. When she was done, she walked a little way back, and propped herself against another tree. She closed her eyes and felt the cool breeze blow over her. It was refreshing, and cleared her head somewhat.

They're such different people, Henry and James. James is fundamentally a decent guy, but he's been through so much, and it's really worn him down. The old cockiness is gone. He loves Mary, that's obvious, and he's willing to stick with her even with what it's doing to him. I wish we could help him somehow.

She strolled back to the little hut, which emitted a small curl of smoke from its top. As she approached, she heard the two men talking low, but she didn't try to listen.

"It's a lovely night out there," she said as she came through the door.

"We were starting to get worried about you," James said. "Everything OK?"

"Great," Eileen replied. "I just stopped for a few minutes to enjoy the night."

Henry nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. I'll be right back." He ducked out of the door.

Eileen sat down by James.

"So…" she said, smiling, "what were you two talking about?"

She didn't expect him to reply, but he just took another swallow of beer and replied simply, "You."

Eileen boggled.

"No, it's OK," he laughed. "I asked Henry about you, if you two were together. He said you had been, but he'd screwed up things, and he wasn't sure any more."

Eileen shook her head. "He thinks that I've stayed with him because I owe him my life. I do, but that's not why. If he hadn't had to get me out of there, we probably wouldn't have gotten to know each other, but I'm not with him because of that."

James nodded. "I know. You two are great together. But the thing about guys, Eileen…" He hesitated.

"A guy like him – he's smarter than me. I didn't know what I had until it was gone. He does. He's afraid that you will wake up one day and see that you can do better than him. He's afraid that once you realize that you don't have to spend your life paying back that debt, you'll move on."

Eileen's mouth hung open. She didn't know where to start.

"Yeah, we're like that," James continued. "I suppose it's pretty dumb, but that's how it is."

Eileen found her voice. "Yeah, it's very dumb," she sputtered. "I'm nothing special. Why would Henry think that he didn't deserve me? If anything, I don't know what I've done in life to merit getting a wonderful guy like him…"

James sighed with mock impatience. "You are special. You've always been, since you were little. Anyway," he said, "I'm not good at this stuff. But you two really should stay together."

"I hope he figures that out," Eileen muttered.

"I told him to give it a chance, that there was more going on than just gratitude. He needs to get over it and listen. It's a hard thing for a guy to do...most of us aren't wired that way."

"Thanks."

"Still keeping an eye out for you, kiddo."

"After all this time."

"Always. Here's to love," James said. "It can be a pain in the ass sometimes."

Eileen laughed. "To love."

They clinked bottles.

Henry put his head back through the door. "You're right, Eileen," he said. "It's perfect out there."

"Beats fog," James said dryly. "If I never see fog again, it will be too soon."

"Same here," Eileen replied. "We didn't have much fog the first time around, but I've seen enough today to last me a lifetime."

Henry looked at the emptiness of his bottle. "Give me another, man," he said. James popped open another beer and passed it to him.

"Are the lights still out?" James asked.

Henry nodded. "Everyone's asleep, I guess."

"Sleeping the sleep of the unburdened. While we're up all night out here."

"Well, they haven't seen what we have," Eileen said. "And done what we've have had to do."

"Yeah," Henry said. "I'll drink to that."

So they did.

"Tell me more about your monsters, Henry," James said.

Henry looked uncomfortable. "I dunno…I can't complain. You had it much worse than I ever did."

"Maybe. I don't want to get into that debate. I'm curious about what they looked like for you."

"Well, there are the ones we've told you about already, inside. There were also these gray hairless man-like things with massive goiters and tails. They jumped around like apes and swung golf clubs at me."

"Golf clubs? Not big knives or pipes?"

"Nope. Golf clubs. There was a sporting goods shop there. Heh. At least I got a decent set of clubs out of it."

James laughed. "Not much of a silver lining."

"No," Henry said, with a childlike sadness. "I don't even play golf."

They laughed.

"There were these men that came out of the walls and swiped at us. They were hard to dodge, especially on the escalators in the subway station. Near the end, there was a whole room of them…one was real, and the rest were puppets. The only killable one was the real one. The rest just spent time knocking me on my butt."

"Ugh. Nasty."

"Yeah. Then there were these things that walked on their hands, and had their heads and butts switched. They moved damn quickly."

"I can't imagine what those looked like."

"Don't bother."

"But the most horrible of all, James..." Eileen said, winking at Henry. James looked up from his beer.

"Oh God, they were the worst...I still have nightmares," Henry continued.

"I've never seen anything like them, and I hope that I never do again," Eileen said.

"A plague upon mankind."

"Scourge of the Earth."

"The unholiest of unholies."

"Proof that there really are stranger things in heaven and earth, Horatio..."

"What?" James asked. "What were they?"

Eileen's eyes met Henry's, then they said in unison:

"The giant technicolor slugs."

James looked from one to the other as they burst out laughing.

Their laughter continued far into the night.


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Eileen woke slowly, to find Henry curled against her back, keeping her warm, just like he did every night at home. His arm was thrown over her waist, and his jacket covered them both.

James was flat on his back on the other side of the fire. He slept the sleep of the dead, silhouetted against the morning light, mouth open, snoring lightly. As she watched, he snorked abruptly, then turned over to face away from her. She smiled, and snuggled back into Henry's warmth.

Henry stirred, and shifted slightly. She rolled over to face him, and stroked his hair gently as his mouth opened, and then his eyes. They squinted against the light that hit his face, and she moved her hand to block the light.

His eyes focused on her. "Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey yourself," she whispered. "Sleep well?"

He smiled. "Very. And you?"

"Like a baby," she replied.

His arm tightened around her, and his face grew serious. "'Leen, I…"

"Later, Henry," she said. She nodded toward James' sleeping form. "Tell me later."

Henry nodded, disappointed. Suddenly, he moved closer, and leaned in to kiss her. Her lips opened, and they devoured each other.

She smiled against his mouth. Talk wasn't always needed.

He rolled onto his back, and pulled her on top of him. His hands ran down her back as she scooted up higher and grabbed his hair.

"Glad to see you two getting along better."

They broke apart to see James propped up on one elbow, grinning. Eileen felt herself go red.

"I remember what that was like, a long time ago," James said, pulling himself up to his feet. He stretched his arms wide. "I'm going to go in and check on breakfast. Come on in whenever." The doorflap opened and closed, and he was gone.

Eileen and Henry stared at each other, then burst out laughing. She rolled off of him onto the floor, and they both shook with laughter.

"Oops," Eileen said, when their laughs finally died down and they could breathe again. "_That_ was embarrassing."

"Damn it, wasn't thinking again."

"I think he was OK with it," Eileen said, smiling. "He understands." Her fingers moved to trace Henry's lips. "We're a good team."

"Yes, we are," Henry said. His hand moved over hers, and he kissed her palm. A thrill shot down her arm. "Too good."

"Well, I guess we're stuck with each other," Eileen said. "Not like they are, thank God."

"No, not like that," Henry said. He contemplated her fingers. "But I don't see either of us trying again. We're getting too old for all of this."

"Who are you calling old?" Eileen said, mock-seriously.

"Well, you're my old lady now, right?" Henry said.

Eileen pondered this. "I guess I am. Old man."

"Who're _you_ calling old?" Henry said, pulling her to him.

"You're years older than me."

"A few years. Come on. We're not eight any more."

Her finger moved languorously down his chest, and she moved closer.

When they broke apart, he smiled.

"Old man, huh?"

"I'll admit, you're well-preserved."

He laughed. "Let's get some breakfast."

* * *

Breakfast that morning smelled good. Mary smiled pleasantly at them as they came into the house, and pointed them to the bathroom. The shower was large, so they opted to shower together.

When they got out, Henry picked up his clothes from the pile he'd left on the hamper.

"James wasn't kidding."

Eileen stopped toweling her hair and turned to look. Henry was holding up his jeans. The dirt and mud and blood from yesterday's trip through town was completely gone, and the rip on one knee was absent. The jeans looked fresh and clean. Her clothes were pristine as well.

"He sure wasn't."

"Yeah. And that's gone, too." His fingers traced a path down her arm where a branch had caught her the previous day and left a long red line. The skin was unblemished.

Eileen shivered. "We'd better get dressed before all the food goes as well."

Henry's stomach rumbled in agreement.

They ate ravenously, as did John and Frank. Laura ate well, with the appetite of a normal, growing eight-year-old. Mary had a cup of coffee and some eggs, while James picked at his food.

After breakfast, Laura jumped down from her chair and collared John, wanting to know all about what it was like to be a policeman. John smiled, and let the little girl pull him onto the back porch to talk. Frank sat by the fireplace, and Mary beckoned James over to the fire as well.

James shot Eileen a look of helplessness, and she smiled and shook her head. Sorry, she thought, but you and Frank do need to talk.

"Let's go out front," she said to Henry.

They put on their jackets and went out to the clearing. Two rustic Adirondack-type chairs sat about twenty feet from the house, with a little table in between, facing a break in the trees. They sat down, and found that from there they could see out over the lake toward Silent Hill. The fog was gone, and the faint sound of the bells from the town church carried over the water in the crisp morning air.

"Just like our patio back home," Eileen said. "Same lake, even."

"I saw a special about Alcatraz on TV once," Henry said. "You know, the prison out in the middle of San Francisco Bay? They said that you could see the city from some of the cells, and on a still night you could hear the rowdiness from the piers. That was the worst torment for the prisoners, seeing what was so close yet so far out of reach."

Eileen nodded. "That would be torture. I don't know how James stands it." Her hand sought Henry's, and they sat side by side, fingers intertwined between the chairs.

He leaned his head back, eyes closed.

"I can't say that I wouldn't make the same choice. I don't know what I wouldn't do for you. I'd give it all for you. Any man in my position who wouldn't…he'd be a fool." He pulled her hand toward him, and kissed it.

"I know. You almost did, many times." She smiled. "You've got nothing left to prove there, Henry Townshend."

"Neither does James."

They sat in silence.

"Eileen?"

"Hm?"

"It was James, wasn't it?"

Eileen turned to him. Henry's eyes were closed again.

"The older guy you had a crush on a long time ago…it was him."

Eileen nodded. "Yes. But that was a long time ago, Henry. I was a kid, ten, eleven tops. My parents knew the Sunderlands from way back, so I knew James when I was growing up. Same way I loved horses…it was a pre-teen-girl thing. He was a lot older than me."

She scanned Henry's face. He was looking off into the distance, but he was listening.

"All of my girlfriends thought he was good-looking, in that sort of arrogant way. When I was younger, I remember him always having some gorgeous girl or other on his arm. Then, he met Mary, and there were no other girls. Even then, I had my little dream that when I was older, he'd notice me. That one died hard…took till their wedding day."

Eileen bit her lip at the memory.

"That's long gone, Henry," she said. She squeezed his hand. "Even if he came to me tomorrow professing his undying love, it would be too late. I'm your old woman now."

He smiled at her. "You'd better be."

"Hey," she said in mock indignation, "are you going all caveman on me again?"

"Grrr. My woman. If you had longer hair, I'd drag you back to the house with it."

"Henry!" she protested, but he was grinning.

"You need me to go beat him up for hurting you like that?"

"No," she said. "He's been through enough, and then some. I think he never even knew."

"Well, I'm keeping you, and if he tries anything..."

"Remember, he knows his way around a steel pipe too."

"Yeah, but I'm younger and faster...maybe. Anyway, I bet he tires more quickly than I do."

"Henry…"

"Eileen?"

"Stay with me. Please."

He nodded solemnly. "You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

"I'm not going to."

"That's what I'm counting on."

He moved to one side of his chair and pulled her over, and she curled up next to him. His hand found a blanket folded on the grass, and he spread it over both of them. Warm, fed, and content, they fell asleep in the chair as the sun rose higher.

* * *

They were woken a while later by a commotion from within the house. Laura came running out, yelling, "Henry! Eileen!"

Eileen jumped, and the chair fell sideways. They tumbled to the ground, tangled in the blanket.

"Damn it," Eileen muttered.

"Hey, kid coming," Henry said, and they quickly untangled themselves.

Laura was out of breath. "Frank's gone!"

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?" Eileen asked.

"Gone! Are you deaf or something?" Laura snapped.

"That's not very nice, Laura," Henry said.

"I'm sorry, Eileen," the little girl said breathlessly. "But he's gone. Nobody can find him."

"Any idea where he went?" Henry asked John, who was walking quickly toward them, followed by Mary and James. James looked panic-stricken, but Mary was serene as always.

"No clue. I'm going to check the boats. You see what you can find out," John said, back in police mode.

"John," James called out. "There's a lookout about a hundred feet along. You can see the dock from there." John nodded, and he hurried down the path.

"What happened?" Eileen asked.

James ran his hand through his hair. "God help me, I don't know. We were talking about things. Catching up. He asked me about…" He looked nervously at Mary, then back toward Eileen. "He asked me about the conditions of the spell. 'How can you live like this?' he said."

Mary looked up. "I told him that we were perfectly happy, and that he didn't need to worry about us."

"Then," James resumed, "he stood up and excused himself to go to the bathroom. After about ten minutes, I went to see if he was OK. The door was open, the window was open, and he was gone."

"And you have no idea where he went?" Henry said evenly. James shook his head, but Eileen knew that Henry had seen the little glance of fear.

"OK," he said. "James, why don't you and Eileen check the front, and Mary and I will check the back. If you see anything, yell."

Eileen and James went to the side of the house, several feet into the forest, and they started poking around in the underbrush.

Eileen looked around to make sure that they were alone. Then, she approached James. "You're not telling us something."

James nodded. "There's something…even Mary doesn't know, Eileen. I've wanted to keep it from her, but if what I think is true, it may be too late."

"What is it, James? Where?"

"…I don't know how Dad knew…God, maybe it called him…oh God…"

"James," Eileen said slowly. He seemed to pull himself together somewhat.

"There's a…room. Under the house. Not a room…a cavern. It's huge. It was here when I first brought Mary here; the house was smaller then. Once I started adding on to the house, I built over the entrance. I knew I'd never need it again. It's a big place..very big...that's why the back room is so large..." James was frantic, wandering.

Eileen shook him by the shoulders. "The cavern. What's in it?"

James avoided her eyes. "That's where…where I brought Mary back."

"There? I assumed…"

"That I'd done it out front? That's why that circle is there. I did that to make Mary think that, too, so she wouldn't ever know about the cavern."

"What's so…special about the cavern?"

James made no attempt to conceal the fear in his eyes. "God," he said, sagging. "It's a horrible place, Eileen. It's the mouth of Hell."

Eileen saw John run back into the clearing.

"You're going to have to tell them, James," she said. "It may be our only chance to save your father."

He nodded tiredly. "Yeah. Time to stop pretending."

John was out of breath. "The boats are still here, so he didn't use them. No sign of anyone swimming, as far as I could tell."

Henry and Mary hurried up as well. "He's not anywhere out back," Henry said.

John looked around. "Where's Laura?"

Eileen smacked her hand against her forehead. "Crap," she said. "Sorry. I forgot about her."

They all hurried inside. Mary called, "Laura, are you in here?"

"Come here! Hurry!" came Laura's voice from the back. They rushed into the back bedroom to see Laura standing in the middle of the room. On the floor, a large symbol had appeared in red. It was the same symbol that was in front of the house.

Henry bent to look more closely. "Blood."

"He's under there! I know it! I know it!" Laura cried. "We've got to get him out!"

"How did he…" John asked.

They all looked at him.

"OK, OK," he muttered. "Never mind. It's Silent Hill, I get it."

James ran out of the room, and brought back the chainsaw from by the front door. Everyone stepped back as James started cutting out the center of the symbol from the wooden floorboards.

After a tense couple of minutes, he removed the circle of wood. Underneath was a stone staircase.

"I never thought I would see this again…" he muttered. He dropped the chainsaw and started down the steps.

"James. Wait," Henry called. He left the room and returned seconds later with an armful of weapons.

"Forgot. It's been a while," James said, and gratefully took his rifle. Everyone but Laura took a weapon or two, and they started down the stairs.


	15. Chapter 15

The stairs seemed to go on forever. After a long time, they came to a small wooden door. James took a breath, grasped the knob, and opened the door.

The room was cavernous. It extended on for hundreds of feet in all directions, it seemed. Eileen wondered idly just how far down they had gone, that such a room could fit under the hill. At the far end was a flat wall that gleamed golden from a hidden light source. In front of it was a large semicircular area, also golden, with lines radiating out, and a heavy border at its edge.

"What the…" Henry said.

"The Womb of God," breathed John.

Something was happening over there. James ran, and they followed him.

Frank was there, at the other end. He sat on the floor, facing a figure that Eileen had never seen before. It wore a long, white smock, stained with blood and dirt. It held a long spear in its hand, and on its head it wore a huge, red pointed helmet that came down to its shoulders.

James looked like thunder. "You."

The figure's head turned to face him, but remained silent.

"What do you want from us?"

"He doesn't want anything from you, James," Frank said, getting to his feet. "It's me he wants. Actually, I offered myself to him."

James was aghast. "Why, Dad?" he asked softly. "This is the man who tortured me all through everything years ago. Why?"

Frank looked at his son with a gaze full of love. "A bargain, my boy." He smiled at Mary, who stood quietly by her husband. "I've made a deal. I give myself to him, and he lets you and Mary go free."

The room was silent. The faint echo of something dripping far away was the only sound in the stillness.

James fell to his knees. "Dad, no…don't…"

Mary moved forward. For once, she seemed upset. "Frank, we're very happy here. We have everything we need…we have each other. Please. You don't need to do this."

Laura ran up to them. "Don't do it, Grandpa Frank," she said. "I like you too much. You're nice to me. First Mary went away, then you too? Don't do it!" She started crying. "I'll stay if they want me to, I will, just don't do it!"

Frank shook his head. He stroked Laura's hair. "Why shouldn't I? I have nothing left now. There's nothing for me outside. If I leave here, I leave behind everything I care about."

He turned to his son, who was still on his knees, looking up at his father with tears running down his face. "I never got the chance to tell you how sorry I was. I failed you, Jim. If I had been there more, if I had been a better father to you and to Mary, you wouldn't have done…what you did. I've lived with that for years now. This is the only thing I can do. I want you to get out of here, to have a chance at a normal life."

James stood up shakily. "Dad…" He approached his father, and the two men embraced. "I can't let you do this. I couldn't live with it. You didn't do anything to deserve this, you never failed us, I don't even know what you're talking about!" He was panicking. "Dad, please!"

Frank looked at his son, and Eileen could see his resolve waver. "Jim? Are you sure? Are you truly happy here?"

James turned to Mary, who was looking at the two of them with near-panic on her face. He turned back to Frank. "I love it here, Dad," he said. "I have my Mary."

"Sunderland," a bass voice boomed. James and Frank both turned to face Pyramid Head.

"There is one here who seeks his sister."

John froze.

Pyramid Head nodded toward him. "He has come here seeking to bring her back. He would do anything for her. If you come with me, Frank Sunderland…I will return that man's sister as well."

"Dad…" James cried.

Frank looked at his son for a long moment, then took James' head between his hands and kissed him softly on the forehead. "That's what I thought," he said. "You were always a terrible liar." Before James could react, Frank turned to Pyramid head, and squared his shoulders.

"Do it," he said.

There was a flash of movement. Eileen saw the end of the spear sticking out of Frank's back before she heard the horrible squishing noise. Frank sank to his knees with a groan, and blood gushed across the stone floor.

James fell to the ground. Mary stood, unmoving. Eileen rushed to James' side and pulled him up. His head fell back over her arm, and he screamed soundlessly.

She stared at the rapidly spreading pool. Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him…or something like that…odd that that should come to mind now...

Steam was coming from the hot blood as it hit the cold stone floor. It rose and filled the room, blocking out the others from her view. The steam darkened and changed...she smelled smoke. The room was full of hot, choking smoke. She coughed, and her eyes watered. She felt James coughing as well.

Then, the smoke retreated, away from the little group.

A figure slowly materialized in the haze, and walked slowly toward them. John gave a strangled cry, and stepped forward. Out of the smoke walked a young woman with dark hair, in red pants and a light-colored sweater. She seemed tired and drawn. She looked around for a moment, dazed, then saw John.

"Johnny!"

"Angie!"

They ran toward each other, and clung together like two kids. John cried into her hair.

"Is it really you?" he sobbed.

She nodded. "That girl, there," she said, pointing into the smoke. "She brought me here." In the haze, Eileen could just make out the figure of a girl in a blue dress, with dark hair. She nodded once at Angela, then disappeared into the smoke.

"Where am I?" Angela asked, looking around the area. "The last thing I remember was walking up the stairs, away from James…he wasn't Mama…" She saw him on the floor, and ran to him.

"James…" Her hand reached for his face. "Did you ever find your wife?"

He nodded mutely, and pointed at Mary. Angela stood, and walked right up to Mary. They stood nose to nose.

"I don't know what happened between you two, but this man," she said, pointing at James, "went through hell and back again to get you back. I know…I was there. He helped me too. I don't know what happened before, and I don't care. You owe him everything."

Mary said nothing. Angela returned to John, and took his hand.

The smoke was clearing, and Frank's body became visible, lying on the floor. Pyramid Head stood over it, arms crossed, silent.

James struggled to get up, tried to move toward his father, and fell forward on his hands and knees. A cry rose from his throat, and his howl filled the enormous room. Pyramid Head stood impassively.

Eventually, James' keening died out, and he sat back on his heels, slumped in exhaustion.

Eileen helped James to his feet as the little group prepared to leave. He turned a pleading face to Pyramid Head, but the monster just shook his head slowly, and James' shoulders sagged.

They had walked several steps when James said, "Mary…where's Mary?"

They all turned back around. Mary stood where she had been before, by Pyramid Head, next to her father-in-law's body.

James walked over to her. "Mary, honey, we can leave now," he said softly.

"No," she said. Her expression did not change.

"No? Why not? What is it?"

"I'm not going anywhere," she said.

"What do you mean?" James was turning red with anger. "Dad gave up his life so we could leave, and now all you have to say is 'no'? What are you thinking, Mary?"

She looked at him with a small smile. "I don't know why you keep calling me that," she said slowly. "I'm not your Mary."

The blood drained from James' face. He backed away from her, slowly. Pyramid Head shuffled toward the area beyond the semicircular border, dragging Frank's body with him. Mary followed him, never losing eye contact with James. She left dark footsteps in the smear of blood.

As she was about to step over the border, she stopped. The smile was now an evil grin.

"I was never your Mary. It's like I told you. I'm whatever you want me to be." She started to shimmer, then to change. Her hair grew shorter and blonde and tipped with red, and she wore black boots, a spotted miniskirt and a red sweater.

Eileen felt Henry by her side. "Jesus," he whispered to her. "It's Maria."

Maria's head turned to him. "Very good, Mr. Townshend," she said. "You figured out what it took this fool so many years to discover…and after all that, I had to show it to him."

She turned back to James, who stood like a statue.

"After all of that, all the killing and blood and agony that we put you through, you decided you didn't want me. You still wanted your Mary. Dumb, boring, whiny, wishy-washy Mary, who you were fixated on for some incomprehensible reason. That hurt, James," she said, putting her hand to her heart in mock indignation. "That really hurt.

"So, I knew that my job wasn't done. I wasn't done with you yet. You wanted your Mary back…fine. You were ready to pay any price…fine. But I was going to make sure that what you got tormented you for the rest of your pathetic existence. I was going to bore you to tears, make your life into an eternal living death. You were always free to leave, of course, but you never realized it."

She moved forward toward him. James stood still as a stone, staring at her.

"And it almost worked too. But, see, James," she said, stroking his cheek, "you can still have me…I can still be yours. I can be Mary, I can be me, I can be her," and she pointed at Eileen. "I can be anyone you want me to be. Just stay here with me…"

James leaned like a zombie into her touch.

"No! You're not Mary!"

"Laura! Stop!" Henry yelled, but he was too slow for her. Laura streaked forward and started hitting Maria with all her might. "You're evil! You hurt James! Mary would never have wanted that! Mary was nice. She loved James!"

Without breaking eye contact with James, Maria swung her arm and knocked Laura several feet across the room and to the ground. She continued caressing James' face. He seemed mesmerized by her spell…

Laura sat up, unhurt but too astonished to cry for several moments. Then, she screamed.

That sound broke James out of his trance. He pulled back, horrified.

"I want nothing of yours," he said slowly. "You're a demon."

Maria laughed. "So, there we are," she said softly. "As it happens, you're absolutely right for once." She stepped over the semicircular border.

She started to grow, to change. Her arms grew longer, and wings sprouted from her back. Horns grew from her head as her flesh grew red and bloody. A tail sprouted from behind, and her knees bent backward as her feet turned into hooves. What had been Mary, then Maria, was now a ten-foot-tall flying demon.

The little group walked backward, John shielding Laura from the demon's reach.

James threw his rifle to Angela, and pulled out the biggest knife Eileen had ever seen. He raised it over his head, yelled "Cover me!", then stepped forward a few steps and swung the knife downward. It sliced through the creature's arm, and its hand dropped to the ground. The demon swiped the stump at James, knocking him across the room and out cold.

Henry looked at John, and they started forward, Henry with the spade and Richard's revolver, John with the baseball bat and his service revolver. Henry went forward first, swinging at the creature's knees, as John, Eileen and Angela provided cover fire from behind. Henry got in a few good hits, but he didn't see the demon's remaining hand coming at him.

"Watch out!" Eileen screamed.

The hand grasped Henry around the waist and squeezed. He screamed in pain, arms and legs flailing. As Eileen looked on, horrified, it raised him to its eye level, and seemed to inspect him curiously for a moment, turning him one way, then another.

Then, its curiosity sated, it raised him above its head and flung him to the ground. He crashed down in a heap at their feet, silent and unmoving, limbs twisted at unnatural angles.

For a long, terrible moment, Eileen faced the unthinkable. Then, Henry groaned, and his leg twitched. He was still alive.

This had to end, _now_.

Eileen reached around her back, under her jacket, and pulled out what she'd been saving just in case. Well, this was "just in case", now…

She caught Angela's eye, and the young woman nodded in silent agreement. Then, she walked forward in front of Henry, and looked the creature straight in the eye. The thing stared at her with contempt. She lifted up the submachine gun, aimed it at the creature's head, and pulled the trigger.

The bullets swept up and down the demon's body. It froze, and stood still for a moment, then flailed and screamed as Angela's gunfire joined Eileen's. John reloaded his service revolver and joined in. Blood flew everywhere as the creature writhed under the assault. Its wings flapped, but its feet stayed on the ground. Eileen felt the warm blood hit her face, tasted it on her lips.

A shot boomed out from behind her. She turned her head, and caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Henry had pulled himself up onto his elbows, and his revolver blazed as he fired another shot, then another.

After a few minutes that seemed like hours, the creature stumbled. Its head lolled back, and its wings drooped. A long, rumbling groan filled the room. Its knees buckled, and it dropped heavily to the ground.

For a few moments, Eileen, Angela and John stood there, panting, looking at each other. The creature twitched. Then, Eileen walked forward to the beast's head, lifted her foot, and brought it down. Her boot crunched through blood and bone and flesh. The creature twitched once more, then lay still.

They stood silently for a moment, looking at the demon that had nearly killed them all. Then, Angela ran to James, and John turned to check on Laura.

Eileen hurried back over to Henry. His revolver lay on the ground, and he lay on one side, head down, breathing heavily. Blood flowed from a cut to his head, and matted his hair.

"Where are you hurt?" she asked.

Henry moved his hands and then his feet. "Nothing broken," he said, then winced. "I think my shoulder got twisted around, but it'll be OK."

"You're lucky," she said. He pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"I know," he said, then looked her straight in the eye. "Damn lucky."

She pulled her jacket off and tied it around him to keep his arm from moving, then helped him to his feet.

They looked around. John was holding Laura, who was clinging to him, looking with wide eyes at the demon that used to be Mary. Angela and James were walking back over to them; she was under his arm to support him.

They stood looking at the enormous bloody body.

James spoke first.

"Years," he said slowly. "So many years…everything's gone now."

Laura went over to him and took his free hand in hers.

"I'm sorry, James," she said simply.

He nodded down at her. "Me too," he said.

They became aware of Pyramid Head still standing in the back of the room, over Frank's body. Frank lay, white and still, as he had before.

Something shimmered. A figure appeared…Mary's figure. She stood next to Pyramid Head, hands clasped in front.

"James," she said.

James looked at her, wide-eyed.

"It's really me," she said. "Maria's gone. It's me."

They looked at each other across the chasm of time and love that would forever separate them.

"I don't know what to say," James said.

The figure shook her head. "This is the end, James. You have suffered enough. It's time to end this."

She nodded at Pyramid Head, who raised his hand and gestured over Frank's body.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, Frank stirred, and coughed. They all stared in shock at him.

James tried to speak, but no words came out.

"Thank you," he finally said.

"Goodbye, James," the figure said, and started to fade. Soon, both she and Pyramid Head were gone.

"Goodbye, Mary," James whispered. He hid his face behind Angela's head, and his body shook. Angela held him tighter, and Laura looked up at her.

"Who was that?" she asked. "Was that really Mary?"

Angela smiled at the little girl through her tears. "I think so."

James untangled himself from Angela's grasp. He stood unsteadily for a moment, then limped slowly, painfully, toward his father, who was coughing and struggling to sit up. There was no sign of the horrible wound that had killed him. James bent to help his father to his feet, and they propped each other up as they moved unsteadily toward the group.

"What happened?" Frank croaked.

"I'm not sure, Dad," James responded. "But it's time to go home now."


	16. Chapter 16

They moved slowly away from the glimmering gold at the end of the room, and eventually reached the long stairs. They seemed even longer on the way up, and Eileen was relieved when she and Henry finally reached the top.

It was pitch black. John found his flashlight and turned it on, and they gasped at what they saw.

The room, which had been so neat and tidy when they entered the hole in the floor, was a wreck. Literally. Wallpaper hung off the walls, and the furnishings were crumbling around them. The wall at the back of the house was almost completely gone, rotted away.

They walked down what was left of the hallway, and through the front room. The old table was much more weathered than it had been, and there was a large hole in the roof where the brick chimney had fallen through. They had to pick their way through the broken bricks and wood to get out. A book lay open on the floor, its pages rotted with age, faded and illegible.

Henry stumbled over something. "What the…" he said, picking up the object. It was small and square…a pocket radio.

James looked at it tiredly. "Keep it," he said. "I don't need it. Not any more."

They crossed the clearing. The stars shone bright. Time must have passed strangely in that huge room, Eileen thought.

As they reached the start of the long path down, James turned back for a last look at the house where he'd spent the last decade. It sat, dark and broken, looking hundreds of years old...

As they stood in the dark, the house listed, it creaked, and then it collapsed. With a huge puff of dust, the rubble disappeared down into the hole. Nothing was left but the hovering cloud of dust...as if the house had never been there at all.

James shook his head, and they turned and walked down the path.

Somehow, the hill had become much lower, and the path led straight to the dock fifty feet or so from the clearing. The little fishing boat was still there, and they all got in. The fog was gone from the lake, and a large moon hung overhead, lighting their way.

John piloted again, with Angela at his side. The others sat in the back, exhausted.

Laura leaned into Frank's side, and he put his arm around her. Eileen saw the little girl's look of sadness, and she caught Frank's eye. He nodded at her.

"I bet that John and Angela would show you how to drive the boat, if you ask them nicely," he said gently. "Let's go find out." He took her by the hand and led her forward.

The others rested in silence as the boat moved through the night.

James eventually raised his head. "There's a boat launch by the Historical Society," he said.

"We know," Eileen said. "We'll stop there. We can walk the rest of the way."

"I hope we don't see any more monsters," Frank said, returning to his seat.

Henry shook his head. "I don't think that is going to be a problem," he said, catching James' eye. James nodded.

* * *

Sure enough, when they docked, all was quiet. They tied up the boat and made their way slowly down Nathan Avenue. Silent Hill was very normal, and very asleep, it seemed. The fog was gone. Few people were out that late, but those who were just looked at them once and shook their heads.

Henry led them back through town, and to the dirt path. They trudged along for a long, long time before they reached the graveyard again.

Angela stopped on the way through. "You can go on ahead," she said. "I need to do something."

James shook his head. "No way. We're not leaving until you do. Take your time."

Angela took her brother's hand, and they walked to their mother's grave. Angela touched the gravestone, and began to cry. John wrapped his arms around her and held her as she rocked back and forth. The others looked on.

"It's done," Henry said.

Frank nodded. "Now, we can grieve." He looked at his son, who shuddered but did not make a sound.

When Angela and John returned, their faces were streaked with tears, but they managed to smile at each other. The group continued on down the path, and finally reached the rest stop where it all had begun.

James looked around. "Damn. My car is still here." He and Frank walked over to it.

"James?"

He turned back around. Laura was walking toward him.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

James bent down to her. "That's my car over there. Do you want to see?"

She nodded.

"Daddy's van is still here?" Angela wondered. Her hands drifted over the side, which now was brown with years of dirt and dust.

"Yeah," John said. "Battery's gotta be dead by now, though."

He reached into the van and pulled out her coat. She took it gratefully.

"Mine is," James yelled. "I left the door open. Not that closing it would have helped."

Henry laughed. "My truck's still OK. I can fit everybody in there."

They piled into Henry's truck. John and Angela sat in the back along with Frank, who lifted Laura onto his lap. Eileen sat in front between James and Henry.

The truck roared to life, and they started down the road out of Silent Hill.

Angela and John conversed quietly in the back, catching up on years of changes. Laura pointed out things on the road, and Frank was explaining them to her and telling her all about his life in Ashfield.

The three in front rode in silence for a little while.

"What are you going to do now, James?" Eileen asked.

James shrugged. "No idea. I can't even think about it yet."

Eileen nodded. "That's understandable."

"If you need a place to stay, we have a spare room," Henry said.

James smiled tiredly. "Thanks, but I think that Dad and I have a lot of catching up to do. And, it looks as though I have a new daughter," he said, craning his neck back to look at the happy girl sitting on "Grandpa Frank's" lap. He smiled.

"One thing I do know," he said, "is that I'm never coming back here. Not if I can help it."

"Ever hear the stories about Harry Mason and his adoptive daughter?" Eileen asked. "Silent Hill's not a good place for a guy to take his little girl."

"No kidding. I'll be OK," James said. "It's been a long time, but I've got to be able to find a job somewhere. We'll be OK."

"If you're sure," Eileen said.

"Yeah," James replied. "Anyway, I kinda need to get away from things for a while. And, you two need some space, too." He smiled at Eileen. She squeezed his hand.

"Thanks," she said.

"Don't mention it," James said. "I'm tired of figuring out who owes who what. It doesn't really matter in the end anyway."

* * *

The drive back was uneventful, and the old truck pulled up outside the townhouse sooner than anyone had expected.

"This is where we say good night," John said. "I'm going to take Angie home. She needs the rest. Good night, and…thanks. For everything."

Angela took Eileen's hand in both of hers. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she smiled. She seemed so fragile...

"Stay in touch, OK?" Eileen said to her. Angela nodded.

"You too," John said. He turned to the Sunderlands and Laura. "Need a ride?"

"Yeah," James replied. "Know any good motels around here?"

Henry smiled. "There's one by where South Ashfield Heights used to be. We stayed there after we left...it's a good place. Frank knows the one."

Frank nodded. "Yes, I do." He turned to Henry and Eileen again. "Thank you two…so much. I don't know what to say except thank you."

Henry smiled. "Our pleasure." Frank shook his hand, and hugged Eileen. Laura waved, and Henry waved back.

As the others were getting into John's car, James turned to them. Eileen saw that although he was tired, the cloud hanging over him seemed to have gone. There was hope in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

"Thank you," he said. He shook hands with Henry. They stood like that for a moment, then hugged and clapped each other on the back.

Must be a guy thing, Eileen thought.

As Henry stepped back, she reached into his pocket and pulled out his notepad and pen.

"There aren't a lot of people like us out there," Henry said to James. "I hope that it stays that way."

James nodded. "I hear you."

He turned to Eileen, and gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Take good care of her, Henry, or I'm going to come back and steal her away." He grinned.

"That's what you think," said Henry. His eyebrow went up. "I'd like to see you try."

"Boys, please," Eileen said. "Actually, I wouldn't mind. I could sell tickets to the fight." James laughed, and Henry smiled.

She finished writing, and pulled the piece of paper from the pad. "In case you need anything," she said to James as she tucked the paper into his hand. "These are our phone numbers. The first is the house phone, and the other two are our cell phones."

James peered at the paper, then looked up in surprise.

"Cell phones? You two have cell phones?"

Henry laughed. "A few things have changed since you've been gone."

James nodded. "I've got a lot of catching up to do."

"Call us any time. I mean it," Eileen said.

"I may just take you up on that," James smiled. He walked to the car and got in, and Henry and Eileen waved as the car drove off into the night.

* * *

They stood there for a while after it was gone, alone in the cold night air. Then, they turned and went into the house.

Eileen dropped her jacket in the hallway and plopped onto the couch. Henry grabbed two sodas from the fridge and brought them out. They sat for a while, sipping their sodas, not talking.

It was about three in the morning, that strange, silvery time between dark and dawn. The only light in the room came through the sliding doors that faced the lake. The full moon lit up things with an eerie blueness.

"Don't know about you, but I'm dead tired," Eileen said.

"Same here," Henry said. "Another really, really long day."

"Didn't think we'd ever have to do that again."

"Neither did I."

"But it was worth it."

"Yes. Absolutely."

Eileen slid over to Henry and settled into her usual place on his shoulder. He winced.

"I can move," she said.

"Don't. It feels better already."

They sat in silence.

"'Leen?"

"Henry?"

"Don't ever do that to me, please."

"Don't smother me. At least not with a pillow." She smiled. "Smother me with love, with jewels, with good food and chocolate…but not with a pillow, please."

"Deal."

A breeze blew outside the townhouse, and the rippling lake water threw moving, glittering rays of moonlight into the room.

"It scared me, Henry," Eileen said after a while. He rubbed her shoulder, but said nothing.

"Not the monsters, not so much. It scared me to see how he loved her so much that he was willing to make his life hell to be with her. I know that's really out there, but it was still…"

"You wouldn't do it to me. And I wouldn't do that to you. Theirs was such a twisted situation that there's no comparison," he replied.

The light danced on the ceiling.

"Henry, can I ask you a question?"

"You just did."

She elbowed him in the ribs.

"It's personal. Very."

"My father?"

She nodded.

"My father...my father never really believed that my mother loved him. He didn't understand why she moved halfway around the world to be with him. He thought that he couldn't be the reason why. From what she told me once, it sounds as if it was hard for her, being half American in Japan after the war...she never felt as if she fitted in. So I can see how he might have gotten that idea."

Henry's hand went to his pocket, and came out holding the dog tags. The chain wound through his fingers, binding them.

"But she did love him. I know that, but he never did. She tried to convince him for years. He couldn't accept it, and it ate away at him until things finally fell apart. She still loves him...but it's been too long, and it's too late now."

"Too late for them," she replied. "Not for us."

"Eileen…that demon you killed..."

"It had your face," Eileen said.

"I thought so. Mine looked like my father. John's looked like his, I think...but yours looked like...me?"

"You, but an older, bitter you," she replied. "It felt like..."

"Like what?"

"I..."

"It's OK, Eileen."

She bit her lip.

"It felt like you, decades from now, after you'd spent your life making me pay for what you'd done for me. Years of bullying and demanding and wearing me down until it became second nature. He tried to hit me at the same time that he was pleading for his life."

Henry had gone rigid beside her.

"That's not me."

"I know, Henry. But it seemed very real..."

"That's not me. No. Never."

He turned to her and gripped her hands tightly. She flinched, and he let them go quickly.

"I meant what I said. I don't think that way. I'm not that man. That wasn't me you saw."

"I know. It was..."

"They were trying to tell us something, each of us," Henry said.

He took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry about the day before yesterday. I think I understand a little better."

"Do you believe me now?"

He nodded.

"No more paranoid fears about me up and leaving you?"

He smiled. "I'll do my best. Do you still have those red notebooks?"

She pulled them from her pocket and gave them to him. His fingers moved over the cover of one, and he opened it carefully.

"This is just like the book I found on the table by the couch in 302. It appeared there on the same day that the nightmares started. Just like the pages that Joseph left me...if his hadn't been stained with blood.

"I wrote things down in it, like he did. Just in case anybody would ever need to know what had happened, if I wasn't around to tell them. But it was gone after I got back from the hospital...I guess it wasn't needed any more."

"But these are still here," Eileen said. "Why..."

"They must still be needed," Henry said simply.

"Both of them," Eileen said, as she realized his meaning.

"For a long time."

"As long as you'll have me."

"Well, you're stuck with me forever then."

"I'll manage." She grinned at him, and moved up to kiss him. It was slow and simmering. Less fiery, but more intense, more familiar. His lips moved to her ear and then down her neck, and she shuddered, then sagged.

"Henry…" she said.

His lips dragged along her skin, and he leaned his head into her shoulder. "I know," he said. "I'm dead tired, too."

"Old man."

He helped her to her feet. "Let's head up. Don't know about you, but I'm sleeping in tomorrow."

"Same here."

They went up the stairs hand in hand.


End file.
